In Sickness and in Health
by scarylolita
Summary: Naruto's neighbour is a junky. He tries to keep his distance, but after a particularly eventful night at the bar, it gets difficult and he is taken on a roller-coaster of tragedy in the form of a young man named Sasuke Uchiha. AU, NaruSasu.
1. Bad memories and birthdays

**Naruto © Masashi Kishimoto**

**All in Naruto's POV. Also, yes, the legal drinking age in 18 in this world. I always make Sasuke so tortured. **

**Warnings: drugs, prostitution, crude language, mentions of sexual violence, OOC behaviour**

* * *

Depression… Like cancer, it spreads. I live in the ass end of town – a barren wasteland of urbanized garbage. The shit I see and hear on a daily basis is enough to make any sane person wanna croak, but nothing beats the reality of my next door neighbour.

The junky next door lets strangers into his house – men who come for a taste and a touch and leave without a single kind word. Sometimes I hear them moan. Sometimes I hear them scream. Sometimes I hear nothing at all and that's fine with me. I like the quiet days.

I've never seen him, but I've heard the rumors. The neighbours like to talk and they've been talking to me ever since I moved in here, which was just this month. They'll light cigarettes haphazardly, smoking and coughing and talking at anyone who will listen. I guess they're a lonely bunch. I doubt I'm any different.

It's late now. Today was garbage day and that means everyone was filling up their rank smelling dumpsters, waiting for the trash men to come and take away the filth. It smelled like ass the entire day. I live in the worst part of town, but it's all I could afford. There's a string of dank, grimy townhouses and mine is the last one. I have a feeling they're mostly flop houses. I might just be the only sober guy on the block, sad as it sounds. Well, maybe I'm not completely sober, but I'm nowhere near junky level. I've had enough alcohol induced nightmares to know that this is as far as I want to go when it comes to shit that dulls your senses.

I used to drink a lot and then draw. I used to think that's what being an artist was. You had to be sad to make something that mattered. I don't draw much anymore, but when I did my art was furious and I like to imagine it was also powerful. Screaming, angry faces with black caves instead of eyes – eternal caverns and if you looked long and deep enough, you'd fall in and get lost forever.

I'm eighteen and the orphanage didn't offer me much. I moved as far away as I could from that nightmare. I like playing the part of the stranger. I like feeling lost. It's a lot better than being found. I learned that when I was a kid. I ran away so many damn times, but they always found me and I'd get the worst beatings. They were merciless with the whip. I was a trouble maker and my ass cheeks were red as cherries on most days.

I like to think I held fast, but there are some days I get so fucking miserable. If I could, I'd like to burn that damn place to the ground and scream, "_Fuck you_!" to all the uncaring orderlies and cruel matrons. Too bad I can't. I just need to learn to let it all go, but it's so fucking hard when you know you've been wronged.

Everything on the street looks disgustingly identical – every house, every mail box, every rotting tree. It's a shit show. My townhouse is attached to the junky's and the walls are paper-thin so I hear every grimy detail. I hear every vile insult, every dirty name, every wet-slapping sound, every hit, every shove. But never tears. I feel like if I lived that sort of life, I'd fucking lose my shit every damn night. I guess this guy is different. He must be used to it.

The house is ugly. The basement is simple storage. The top floor has only a bedroom and bathroom. The main floor has a living room and a small kitchen that's only big enough for a two-person table. It's fine, though. I live here alone and I have no one to share breakfast with. Not that I'd want to in this embarrassing shit hole. There are crusty, linoleum tiles in the kitchen and bathroom that couldn't be scrubbed clean even with a bottle of bleach. The carpets are stained and old. They feel rough against my bare feet, so I try to wear slippers. There are tacky wallpapers on the walls, some tinted and peeling and discolored. The light fixtures are weak and it doesn't get very bright in here when the sun goes down. Oh, well. At least there aren't any bugs.

I don't have a lot of belongings. I got a little money from the government to get myself started – so I could buy the basic necessities. Apart from that, all I had from my time in the orphanage are some clothes and a few books.

It's not all bad, though. I've met some cool people in this strange, little town called Konohagakure. The first person I met was Sakura. She works at the Laundromat I use and she was nice enough to tell me about the town's history while I washed my drawers. I guess it was a slow day for her because she spent a good couple hours talking to me as I did my damn laundry. She's got pink hair – something you don't see every day. She's quaint and kind, but I've seen her yelling at her co-workers, so I wouldn't want to get on her bad side. Turns out, she's studying to be a doctor. I told her I thought that was amazing. It's honestly rare to see that kind of ambition these days. I feel like everyone stopped caring a long time ago… then again, maybe I'm just being bitter.

Through Sakura, I've met Sai and Ino. They're involved. Ino is the prettiest girl I've ever seen and if I was straight I would definitely be jealous of her boyfriend. Such is life, I suppose.

I've never been in a relationship. I've had a handful of careless fucks throughout the years, but nothing more than that. I once let some old fart stick it to me. I don't know why. I was sixteen. It was during one of my many escapes from the orphanage. The entire time I felt like I wasn't myself. It was like I stepped out of my body for a while and I was standing in the corner of the room asking why the hell I was having sex with an old man. I was a pretty fucking cute kid. I know I could have done better. I guess I just got desperate for a lay. Or maybe I was just stuck in a state of self-hatred and I didn't give a damn. I don't really remember. I just remember I didn't make him use a condom. That's the first and last time I had unsafe sex. When we were done, I tried to leave but he didn't like that idea so much. He beat the shit out of me and called me a whore, saying he wasn't a fan of one night stands. I guess he expected more from me.

I ended up getting an STD. It feels like so long ago, but I guess it wasn't that long.

Anyway, that was the last time I had receptive anal sex. To be perfectly honest, the thought of taking a dick stresses me out now. It's funny and sad how a brief event can impact a person's entire life. I try not to let it cross my mind too much. I have a lot of crappy memories, but that's definitely one of my worst. These days, I prefer my sex partners beautiful and stupid and loud in bed.

Tonight is the same as every other night. I turn the television on and put the volume on high, trying to drown out the sound of my neighbour getting rammed. I bet I could pay him two dollars for a spin and he'd be fine with it. Not that I would. I'm not that kind of guy. I prefer my sex clean. I guess 'round these parts people don't really give a damn what kind of sex they're getting as long as they're getting it.

I close my eyes, listening to the actors on screen spit out shitty lines. I hate soap operas. I hate melodrama. I hate all this sad shit, but I can't find it in me to budge an inch and change the damn channel. I know I should turn it off and try to sleep, but I doubt the junky is finished his latest orgy. At least I work at noon, so I can sleep in tomorrow. I work at a fast food joint. Every day I come home smelling like fryer fat and onion rings, but I never eat the shit I serve. I try to stay as healthy as I can.

My life is so stereotypically cliché I could vomit. I'm a statistic – the kind you read about in a sociology text book.

After a while, I shake away the bitter thoughts and finally force myself to stand. I turn off the television and return upstairs. By now, it's quiet. There are no more sounds coming from next door and I'm thankful. I can never sleep when the junky is up all night shrieking.

Because of my depression, my sleep is either sporadic or constant. There's rarely a healthy medium.

I walk into my cupboard of a bathroom and brush my teeth before taking a piss. I strip down to my bare ass and then stare at myself for a minute. I've never been overly critical about the way I look. I know I'm not exceptional, but I'm definitely far from ugly. I was a pretty cute kid. That kind of wore away as I got older… but I think I'm decently handsome. I'm pretty fit. My height is average. My skin is pretty tanned. My hair is blond and rather unruly. My eyes are blue. I've got some weird birthmarks on my cheeks that look like whiskers. I got teased a lot because of it back in my early years at the orphanage. Kids are fucking assholes.

I walk across the hall, crawling into bed. My bed is a simple mattress lying on the floor. I don't have a quilt. All I have are some thin sheets. I should probably invest in something thicker for cold nights.

With a long sigh, I try to get comfortable before finally closing my eyes.

* * *

The following morning I put on a housecoat and as I go out to get the paper, I see a black Cadillac parked on the side of the road. Standing outside is a handsome man with prominent tear troughs and long, dark hair in a low ponytail. He's talking on a cellphone. He looks frustrated, but calm at the same time. I watch for a minute and when he hangs up, I grab the paper lying at the end of my driveway and continue minding my own business. We make awkward eye contact before I turn away.

"Excuse me?" he calls a split second later.

I turn back around and he approaches me where I hover. "What?" I ask, trying not to sound completely rude. I've always been blunt. Some people hate it.

He points to the junky's house. "Do you know the man who lives here?" he asks.

Oh, fuck. Is this a bust? What if this guy is FBI? Nah… No, that isn't likely. I'm sure if there was anything too dangerous going on in there he would have come in with a team. So, I say, "No, I've never seen him. I think he's a hermit because he never comes out."

"He's not," the man murmurs. "He just doesn't get out much during the day. Light sensitivity from migraine headaches keeps him inside. He's also very introverted."

"How do you know?" I pry.

The man gives me a bleak, grim smile. "He's my brother."

That surprises me. Of all the dirty rumors I've heard about the junky next door, I never imagined he'd have a brother who looks like this. So… put together. "Oh," is all I muster up.

"He hasn't been answering my calls."

"Want me to try knocking down the door?" I offer. I don't have much muscle, but I think I have a little more than this guy does.

He looks like he's considering it for a moment, but then he shakes his head. "Sasuke would hate that," he says. "Besides, I have a key… I just don't want to have to use it."

"Who is Sasuke?" I question.

"My brother," he specifies.

"Then what's your name?" I ask.

"Itachi," he holds out his hand. "Itachi Uchiha."

"Naruto Uzumaki," I introduce myself, grabbing his hand and giving it a firm shake before letting go. "You should probably go in and check on him," I urge. "What if he's like…" I trail off, not wanting to sound like a dick for hinting that his brother could very easily be dead in there.

With a sigh, Itachi digs a set of keys out from his pocket. "You're right," he admits. "Thank you."

I nod and without another word I walk back up my driveway and into my house. I need to shower, but I'm debating whether or not I should put it off. I'll just get greasy and smelly at work, so what's the point?

I go inside and I move upstairs, into my room. I sit down and grab my laptop, opening it. My laptop is shit, just like everything else I own. That's fine, though. All I use it for is porn. I love a good orgasm. For those mere seconds, nothing else in the damn world matters. Hell, my life sounds bleak and empty. I open up a new tab and type in the familiar URL. This must be the loneliest activity in the world, but I don't give a damn. It feels good.

I can hear shouting coming from next door. I try to ignore it. I click some random video and stick my hand in my robe. I like watching vanilla sex. I know there's a lot of fucked up pornography out there, but none of it interests me. I don't want to get into the habit of watching strange shit. I've lived through enough of it to last a lifetime. Vanilla is… comfortable.

After jerking, I wipe the mess off with a tissue and throw it in the trash can sitting in the corner of my room. It's time for work. I have to wear beige khakis and a stupid polo with the ugly restaurant logo on it. The worst part is the visor. God, I fucking hate the visor.

But hey, money is money. So, I get dressed and I go outside. It's bright, but it's getting colder out this time of year, but it's still pretty warm. I hate October – mostly because of my birthday, but also because it starts getting cold. I hate the cold almost as much as I hate my birthday. Neither is fun or pleasant.

Birthdays at the orphanage were always forgotten. I didn't even know my own birthday until I snuck into the office to read my file. Birthdays usually involved beatings, but this year was different. This year, I was finally allowed to leave. So, in a way, maybe this was my best birthday ever.


	2. The boy next door is bad

**Naruto © Masashi Kishimoto**

* * *

After yet another tiring, greasy shift at work, I end up at the nearest bar. I still need to shower. I feel like I'm rotting from the outside in. I sit down on a stool and order straight whisky, trying not to down it in one gulp. I sip slowly, surveying my surroundings. The bar isn't busy, but it isn't empty, either. There's a small crowd near the back playing pool. There's soft rock music playing, probably some underground shit because I've never heard any of it before. On the opposite end of where I'm seated, there are two men. One is fat and middle aged while the other is young and cute. There's a sardonic smile on his face as he listens to the fat man next to him garble about something I don't quite catch. I know I'm staring, but it's hard not to. I swear, this guy is prettier than fine china. He's got ivory skin, fine eyebrows, dark hair stuck up in odd angles and equally dark eyes you could get lost in. They remind me of the pictures I used to draw and I find it unsettling yet mysterious. He is small-framed and kind of dainty looking. When he finally speaks, his voice is deep and smoother than syrup. He's probably the kind of guy who can charm without flaw and get what he wants. He's beautiful, but something tells me he's definitely not vapid.

I continue to sip, staring down at my drink when it's not raised to my lips. From the corners of my eyes, I see the pretty guy stand up to take a phone call. I glance over and what I see causes me to shake my head. The middle aged dude is putting something in the damn kid's drink. It doesn't take a genius to figure out what he's going to try to do. I fucking _hate_ scumbags like that.

In the orphanage, there were no separate showers. All the guys showered together. When I was fourteen, a bigger kid thought it would be funny to grope me while I was shampooing my hair. I didn't think it was very fucking funny, so I punched him right in the face. Naturally, I got in shit and no one believed me when I said I didn't start it.

That alone should motivate me to stand up and put a stop to the potentially dangerous situation… but still… I don't. I don't do anything. Maybe the guy is slow-witted and maybe I'm an asshole for not doing anything, but that still doesn't motivate me to budge. I sit back and watch the world do its thing. It's times like these when I get so detached. I feel like I'm a little actor in the film that is life. But then reality sets in and I remember that my life itself would make a pretty shitty, cliché movie.

I watch as the pretty guy sits back down and almost immediately he reaches for the glass, raising it to his lips. If he takes a sip, I'll intervene… but he doesn't. When the glass touches his mouth, he stops. He gives the old guy a sweet smile before letting the glass slip between his fingers and fall to the floor. It shatters loudly and then everything in the pub is silent. "Nice try," he says to the man, "but I'm not stupid." He starts to walk away, but the man grab's his wrist, spinning him around.

"Take it outside!" the barman calls lazily, not looking like he really gives a damn either way.

With a sigh, I take this as my queue to intervene. I abandon my drink with a handful of small bills on the countertop and make my way across the bar. "Hey," I say calmly, putting a hand on the larger man's shoulder. "Why don't you two take a second to cool down?"

"No need," the pretty guy says, slipping out of the other man's grip. "I'm perfectly fine." With that, he leaves the bar. The asshole doesn't follow, so, instead, I do.

"It's dangerous to walk home alone at night," I tell him. By now, the sky is dark and the street lamps are dim under the moonlight.

He looks at me with a slight, mocking smile. "You look big and strong. Want to be my protector?" he asks coyly.

I don't answer. Instead, I just walk alongside him. "What's your name?" I ask after a few minutes of silence, glancing at him. He is bit shorter than me, which is kind of rare because I'm not exceptionally tall.

"Sasuke," he answers and for some reason I feel like I've heard the name before, but I can't quite recall where.

"I'm Naruto," I tell him.

"Naruto," he repeats with a snort. "Like narutomaki?"

"Yeah," I admit with a chuckle. "My parents wanted to be original, I guess." He smiles at that, looking young but I know he's at least legal. He was at a bar, after all. "How old are you?" I decide to pry.

"Eighteen," he says.

"Me, too," I tell him. Without another word, he grabs me by the arm and pulls me into the nearest alley. "What are you doing?" I ask as he pushes me up against a brick wall.

"Sh," he demands, pecking me on the lips quickly before drawing back. He gets on his knees, unbuttoning my khakis with ease before reaching for my dick. A second later, I feel the warm, wet heat of his mouth. There's a voice in my head reminding me that this isn't safe, but there's another voice in my head that's telling me it doesn't fucking matter. This guy is cute and he looks good on his knees. Maybe that's a dickish thing to say about a person, but it's true. So, I let him suck me off. God love the kid, I guess he's not completely clueless.

Embarrassingly enough, it doesn't take me long to cum down his throat, even with all the alcohol in my belly. He makes a long humming sound, hollowing his cheeks and pulling away with a wet sound. He wipes the corners of his mouth and then rises to his feet, leaving me alone in the alleyway with my dick still hanging out of my pants. I make myself decent and follow him once again.

"Where do you live?" I ask him, wondering how far I'll be walking.

"In the shittiest part of town," he admits.

"No kidding," I snort. "So do I."

He smiles faintly. "Do you do this often?" he wonders. "Let strangers suck you off in public?"

"No," I say before retorting, "Do _you_ do this often? Suck strangers off in public?"

"Maybe," he murmurs. "I find a guy… and if he wants a piece, I let him have it. But he has to earn it."

"Lemme guess," I interject, "that guy in the bar didn't quite make the cut?"

Sasuke emits a derisive laugh. "No, but for some guys, that won't stop them." A pause. "_Real men take what they want_," he says in a gruff, mocking tone. He then softens, wrinkling his nose and shrugging.

"Real men sound like assholes," I tell him.

"Men are," he mutters, suddenly sounding very bitter. I guess he's been hurt in the past. I won't try to patronize him.

"Sorry," I mumble.

He shrugs carelessly. "Such is life."

We fall silent, but it isn't tense. It's just quiet. I stare up at the moon's immensity as I walk, trying not to trip over my own feet. Soon enough, we enter a familiar col-de-sac.

"You live here?" I ask slowly and he simply nods in response. Soon, we near the end of the street. "Shit…" I deadpan, staring up at the house before staring at him.

"What?" he asks, tilting his head to the side.

"We're neighbours," I confess, pointing to the house next door. "That's my place right there."

Oh, God… What if I have herpes or something? I stare at Sasuke. He definitely wasn't what I was expecting when I heard there was a junky living next door. I expected flat, crusty veins, sallow skin, sunken cheek bones… The whole stereotypical shebang. I guess this kid hasn't been hooked for too long because he's still got them pretty looks of his. Shame, really. They'll be long gone if he keeps this up.

"Oh," he says.

"So, you're the street's infamous junky?" I ask.

He gestures to himself. "Not what you expected, is it?"

"No," I admit. "I met your brother earlier, though – Itachi, was it? He was pretty put together."

"Yeah, that's Itachi," Sasuke murmurs. "He's stone cold but everyone loves him because he's perfect and knows how to put on a good face for show. I was never like that."

"What happened to you, then?" I pry. They both seem too different. Apart from their appearance, I can't find a single similarity.

"I'm bitter and moody," he explains vaguely. "We used to live together but I kept using money for things he didn't want me to buy, so he cut me off. Then I'd just pawn off valuables. So, in the end, he kicked me out. He said I had a choice. It was either him or drugs. He didn't want to sit back and watch me ruin myself… but I couldn't choose just one. So, I moved here in the summer and Itachi now lives with his fiancé and they check up on me every so often just to make sure I haven't croaked."

"Shit," I mutter, earning a careless shrug in response. I guess the answer itself is vague, but I understand why. Most people don't want to tell a stranger their life stories and talk about all their pain.

Nonetheless, I feel like, now that I know him, I won't be able to just sit back and listen next time I hear screaming coming from next door.

"Anyway," he says. "Goodnight."

And with that, he moves up his driveway. I watch his back until he disappears inside and then I do the same. Since it's late, I decide to just go to bed and not waste any time in front of the television. I strip off my clothes, take a piss, brush my teeth and wash my face. Fuck it, I'll shower in the morning.

Back in my room, I grab my cellphone and make myself a reminder to get an STI test done, just to be safe. Luckily, I don't work tomorrow.

When that's said and done, I kill the lights and get in bed.

* * *

I walk through a narrow hallway. All I can smell is cigarette smoke. It's like the scent has settled in the walls. It feels like I'm walking for hours and when I near the end I can spot a door. There are sounds coming from inside – familiar sounds. I grab the handle, twisting it and swinging the door open. Inside, I see Sasuke on all fours, panting and moaning as a stranger rams him from behind.

Sasuke looks at me through eyes half-lidded. "Naruto," he says my name between labored breaths. "What are you doing here?"

What _am_ I doing here?

I don't answer. I just keep staring and he stares back. It feels like we're the only two people in the room, though it's hardly the case. The stranger finishes with a grunt. "You wanna fuck the kid, too?" he asks me, pulling out and moving aside. Grabbing Sasuke by the hips, he turns him around and cups each cheek before spreading them and giving me a view of the cum dripping out of his hole.

Then I wake up. This is precisely when I realize that I _do_ want to fuck him. I've never wanted to fuck anyone so badly in my life.

Hell, it's been a while since I've had a dirty dream. Now I've got a serious hard-on. For now, I try to ignore it.

I sit up and rub the sleep from my eyes before getting out of bed. I check the time on my phone and see that it's only ten in the morning. Since I'm already awake, I decide to go and take a shower. Finally. I turn on the taps and wait, staring at myself in the mirror. I seriously look like shit. My hair is stringy and my entire face has a shine to it. Gross.

When the water is hot, I step inside and shampoo my hair before lathering myself in soap. It feels good to get clean. I hate being dirty. Once I'm finished, I stay standing under the nozzle for a little while longer. I just close my eyes and let the water cascade. After a minute, I grab my dick and start jacking off thinking about the way Sasuke looked in my dream and the way his mouth felt the night before.

I try not to make a habit of this sort of thing. I'm a fan of consent and maybe that's why I watch pleasant, vanilla porn. It's there to be consumed. People you meet on the streets aren't… but if I'm going to be reasonable, I bet Sasuke wouldn't give a shit. He did give me head mere seconds after learning my name… and damn he was good. That's the kind of talent that can only come with practise. No one is a natural at sucking dick.

I quicken my pace, resting my other hand against the tiled wall of the shower. With a grunt, I'm done. No muss no fuss when you do it in the shower.

I guess I should get out. I need to go to the walk-in clinic.

With a sigh, I turn off the taps and step out, towelling off. In my room, I put on a pair of grey sweatpants and a t-shirt. I dig for a pair of clean socks, putting them on and slipping into my sneakers. With that, I grab my wallet and phone, sticking them in my back pocket as I leave.

It doesn't take me long to reach the clinic. Everything in this town is close together, which is nice. I talk to the man at the front desk and he gives me a number, telling me to wait in the waiting room. Fortunately, it doesn't seem busy.

I watch the clock and play with my cellphone until my number is called. I stand up and follow a young, brunet woman into an office room.

"My name is Shizune Kato," she says, holding out her hand once we're alone.

"Naruto," I respond, giving her a firm shake. "I don't know if I have anything," I admit, "but I was stupid last night, so I wanna be safe."

"Well, it's always good to be careful," she says with a smile, sitting down at her desk and gesturing to the chair in front. "With many STIs, there won't be any symptoms at all so it can be quite dangerous, especially as time passes."

"Yeah," I murmur in agreement, taking a seat.

"Have you ever been tested before?" she asks. "Do you know how it goes?"

"Yeah," I murmur again. "I try to make it a regular thing when I'm having sex."

She nods. "Good to hear," she says, readying her clipboard. "So, none of this will be new to you. I'll ask you some questions to find out what parts of your body may be exposed to infection and we'll go from there. All of this is kept confidential."

I just nod my head and we get down to business.

"Are you currently sexually active?" she starts off.

"Sporadically," I tell her. "Last night I got oral, but that was the first time in a while."

"In the past _twelve_ months how many sexual partners have you had?" she asks.

I wince. "Like… seven maybe?" It sounds bad, but the numbers always get hazy.

"In the past _three_ months how many sexual partners have you had?"

"One." And that's Sasuke. I've been too busy recently to meet guys. Everything about turning eighteen stressed me out hard.

"Do you practise safe sex?"

"I try to."

She pauses. "You _try_ to?" she pries. "What hinders your use of protection?"

"I mean… sometimes stuff just gets in the way," I say vaguely, not really wanting to get into it. "Sometimes people are just… yeah, I dunno. I try to be safe. I usually am. Last night I wasn't and that's why I'm here… I let a stranger suck me off. Not really lookin' to get judged for it."

It's true enough. I always wear a condom. Well, unless I'm getting or giving oral. No one really wants to put on a condom just to get their dick sucked. That's why I try not to, but last night the alcohol made my inhibitions disappear.

"Okay," she says softly. "When you do use protection, what kind is it?"

"Condoms," I say.

"Are your sexual partners men, women or both?"

"Uh, men," I tell her.

She nods, continuing to write shit down on the form on her clipboard. "What kind of sexual activity do you usually partake in?"

"Uh, anal… blowjobs, rimming… heavy petting…" I start. "Everything, I guess, but I haven't bottomed since I was sixteen."

"Okay," she says. "Now, have you ever had an STI before?"

"Yeah," I admit. "When I was sixteen. I had chlamydia. I was living in an orphanage, so that's where I got treated."

"And have you had any recurring symptoms?"

"Nope, all clear."

She nods. "Now, do you have any other questions or concerns regarding your sexual health and practises?" she asks me.

"The guy last night…" I start. "I know he's a junky… like into heavy shit. Intravenous drugs. Plus, I think he's a hooker… though he didn't make me pay him." It's embarrassing for me to confess to such a lap in judgement. I try to live my life the way I imagine my parents would've wanted me to if they didn't croak… but I always manage to fuck things up just when I think I'm getting myself back on track.

The doctor nods, writing something else down on the paper. For a while, she doesn't speak. I just watch her write and I find it mildly concerning until she raises her head and tries to ease me by smiling.

In the end, she makes me pee in a cup then takes a blood sample. That's that. I give her an awkward _thanks_ and then I skedaddle. I hate telling people what a dumb ass skank I can be. It makes me fuckin' hate myself. I get defensive. I like to play the tough guy, but when I'm in situations like that my façade melts away. You can't exactly look like a badass when you're talking about all the dicks you've sucked. It all comes back and you're forced to relive even the bad times. Unfortunately, you can't un-suck a dick. I've learned that time and time again. I've sucked some pretty fuckin' nasty dicks when I was younger. I had no shame and no self-worth. I like to think I've gained a little back, but I still have a long way to go.

After leaving the clinic, I go to the grocery store and pick up some vegetables, bread and cereal. I walk past the liquor store on my way home and have to resist the urge to go inside. Sometimes I think I'm an alcoholic, but then I remember there's no dependence. I'm just fucking bored. Then again, maybe liquor just helps me forget how lonely I am.

At home, I put the groceries away in the cupboard and in the fridge. I guess now is as good a time as any to do the rest of my errands. I shove my laundry into a bag and head back out.

At the Laundromat, I immediately spot Sakura. She waves, I wave back and then I find an empty washing machine. As I load my lights, she approaches me. "Slow day?" I ask.

"It's usually pretty slow around here," she admits, "but that's fine. It doesn't affect me… unless they decide to lay me off."

"Hopefully that won't happen," I say.

"Hopefully," she agrees.

One I'm finished loading, I decide to pry some more since I'm still new in town and don't know much about this place. "Do you know a guy named Sasuke Uchiha?" I wonder her and without a hint of thought, she nods her head. "How?" I ask, somewhat surprised.

"Well, I don't really know him personally," she says. "I just know _about_ him. We have mutual friends and we went to school together, but he was never one to socialize. He had friends, but he tended to keep everyone at arm's length. His family is ridiculously wealthy. His parents passed away in some freak plane crash a few years ago, but his brother took over the business. They own a law firm. Sasuke is kind of the local poster child for tragedy."

"Wow…" I murmur in awe. "I met him the other night," I decide to admit. "I went to a bar and he almost got roofied, but he seemed wise to the trick. I ended up walking him home, though. Turns out, he lives to the house attached to mine."

"Damn," she deadpans.

"He's, like… _really_ good looking," I say with a laugh. "I expected a gnarly looking junky but he's got that heroin chic thing down."

"Yeah, but that won't last," she chuckles sadly. "Drugs are pretty lethal when it comes to your insides and outsides."

"Shame," I sigh. "He's fucking _fine_."

"So, you like pretty boys?" she asks, chuckling some more.

"Yeah, who doesn't?" I snort.

"I like pretty _girls_," she says with a wink.

I smile at that. "Got a special lady in your life?"

"Yeah, her name is Karin," Sakura says, smiling in return.

"Cute," I coo.

"She used to be friends with Sasuke," Sakura mentions, "but they never kept in touch. After his parents died, he dropped out and turned into a bit of a recluse."

"Pity," I murmur.

"So," she starts offhandedly, "do you think you'll try and court Sasuke Uchiha?"

I wrinkle my nose. "No, I have a feeling he'd be a really high maintenance boyfriend… Plus, I'm not really into drugs and I don't want to ever be with someone who is into drugs."

"That's smart," Sakura says. "It's best to stay far away from that stuff."

I simply nod. We continue chatting about simpler things after that. She tells me a little more about her girlfriend and I welcome the happy conversation gladly.

Soon enough, my laundry is finished. I begin folding and Sakura says, "You should come to my place this weekend. Ino and Sai will be there and you'll get to meet my girlfriend."

"All right," I accept her offer with a smile. "That'd be awesome."

* * *

I take the long way home. When I reach my house, I see Sasuke sitting on his porch smoking a cigarette. He's wearing sunglasses and then I recall what Itachi said. Light sensitivity. I debate walking past him, but I can't bring myself to. "Rumor has it you're a heroin addict," I say as I walk up my stairway. "That's what your neighbours told me when I first moved in. You know that stuff kills your dick."

"Shut up," he responds evenly.

"If you can't get hard, wouldn't that ruin business for yah?" I ask, opening my door and tossing my clean laundry inside. I turn around and stare at him, waiting for a reply.

He doesn't bother looking at me. "If you must know, there are times I can't get it up and no one cares," he starts stiffly. "Sometimes I'm just way too high, but it doesn't matter. People don't come 'round to get me off. They come to get themselves off. All I have to do is take their money and get on all fours."

"Hm," I muse. "Sounds pretty dirty. How much money does your ass and mouth make?"

"A hundred to fuck," he starts. "Fifty to suck. I try not to do anything else, but it isn't always a choice."

I wince at that. "You're leading quite the bitter life, aren't yah? Is it worth it?"

He looks at me and sneers. "_God_, you're annoying," he growls and it looks like he's starting to lose patience with me. "I don't appreciate the holier-than-thou attitude of yours."

I just shrug carelessly. "I don't think I'm better than you. I just think I _know_ better. Only dumbasses do shit like heroin."

He grits his teeth. "I can't believe I sucked your dick."

"Well, you can't un-suck a dick," I tell him and it only makes him angrier. "And if it's any consolation, I can't believe I _let_ you suck my dick."

He lets out a breath and then simply shrugs his shoulders. "Whatever. I don't care."

"Really?"

"Really," he insists.

"You don't seem to care about much of anything," I point out. "Why is that?"

"Existential nihilism," is all he says. "Now, go away."

I roll my eyes and finally step inside, closing the door behind me. I lock it as well, because you can't be too careful around here.

I spend the remainder of the day tidying up my house and soon enough it's 9PM. I strip down and take care of business before crawling into bed. I'll get an early night since it's quiet. I get comfortable and just as I feel myself drifting I hear a loud noise. It's unsettling. It's a noise I've never heard before outside of crime television shows and the news.

_Bang. _

I sit up immediately, tossing the covers off and getting to my feet. I fly down the stairs and run outside without a stitch on. I see the figure of a man running down the street. I don't bother chasing. Instead, I hop over the railing and jump onto Sasuke's balcony. The door is open. I don't waste any time. I run inside and call his name, but there's no answer. I flick the lights on and move inside. In the kitchen, I find Sasuke. He's on the floor bleeding, staring up at the ceiling blankly. I immediately kneel down, hissing out, "Shit!" I grab a nearby dish cloth and press it to the gaping wound in his midsection.

"Stop…" he whispers weakly.

"No!" I snap. "You're gonna bleed to death. You got shot!"

He closes his eyes and mutters, "Good."

"Where's your phone?" I ask, glancing around the room. "Fuck… _Fuck_…!" I start shrieking for help because if I run to get my phone he might just bleed to death. I feel like I'm gonna fucking throw up. "SOMEBODY HELP!" I continue screaming.

Nothing.

I take a string of heavy breaths, trying not to get puke in his bullet wound. I peel the bloody rag away and lift up Sasuke's shirt. Fuck, it looks bad. It's a pretty clean cut.

"Sasuke, you hafta stay awake," I warn him shakily. "Keep your eyes open and try to concentrate on what I'm saying, all right?" I let out a breath. "You're going to be okay, I swear. We'll get you fixed up and –" I continue, only to be cut off by a new voice.

"_Hello_?" they call.

"In here!" I shout back.

A shaggy looking guy with brunet hair and a lot of stubble wanders into the kitchen. He gives me a strange look and slowly says, "I heard screaming…" A pause. "Shit," he whispers, staring at Sasuke and then wordlessly taking a cellphone out of his pocket.

"You better be calling an ambulance," I say in a mutter.

He gives me a weary smile before speaking into the receiver. "Hi, I need an ambulance. A kid got shot." He gives the address and then hangs up.

"Thanks," I murmur. "Seriously… I don't know if he'll survive but if he does it's thanks to you."

"And you," the guy insists. "You were the one who found him like this."

I just sigh. "Fucking stressing me out…"

"This kind of crime isn't rare around here," he says. "You must be new."

"I am," I say. "Just moved in this month, right next door to Sasuke."

"I live across from here with my buddy Shino," the guy says. "My name's Kiba Inuzuka," he introduces himself. "I work as a bouncer. I was just coming home when I heard you shouting."

"Naruto Uzumaki," I murmur. "Can you look for a clean cloth?"

Kiba nods, moving further into the kitchen. He opens a few drawers before finding one with cloths and dish towels. He grabs one and says, "This okay?"

"Yeah," I nod. "I'm, uh, I need to get dressed if I want to ride in the ambulance. Stay with him?"

He nods, "Sure, man." He kneels down and presses the clean towel to Sasuke. Fortunately, his eyes are still open… but they're glazed over. He doesn't look aware at all.

Hesitantly, I leave the room, running out of the hallway and out the door. Back at my house, I am quick to wash the blood off my shaky hands. Once clean, I throw on a sweatshirt and a pair of sweatpants. I find clean socks before slipping into my sneakers and then I make my way back to Sasuke's. The ambulance is taking their sweet fuckin' time, which pisses me off.

"For fuck's sake," I growl on my way back into Sasuke's house.

"Man, he's not conscious anymore," Kiba says, sounding solemn. "I tried to keep him awake, but he wasn't hearing any of it."

"Shit," I whisper, bending down. I give Sasuke a few light slaps to the face, but he doesn't wake up. His head just lolls back and forth.

I sit back, simply staring. I wonder how much time has passed. Hopefully only mere minutes, but it feels like so much longer.

Soon enough, I hear it. Sirens. I stand up and run outside, watching as the vehicle nears and pulls into the driveway. Two paramedics jump out – a male and a female.

"In here," I call.

They come in with a stretcher and carefully lift Sasuke onto it. I part ways with Kiba, waving before boarding the ambulance. I watch them work during the drive. It's draining me. I can't imagine how Sasuke is going to feel when he wakes up. _When_ he wakes up… Should I say _if _instead?

When we arrive at the hospital, I'm forced to sit in the waiting room as they operate to remove the bullet. He'll probably need a blood transfusion. He lost a lot.

I slump in a chair and close my eyes, trying to think positively. I've seen a lot of bad shit, but that was by far the bloodiest. If he dies, I'll probably be traumatized for the rest of my life. I rub my forehead with the back of my hand. I know I'll probably be here for a while.

* * *

I don't know how long I'm waiting, but soon Itachi walks in with another man. He's tall and broad with prominent cheek bones and dark hair. He looks scary, to be quite frank.

"Naruto," Itachi greets.

"Hey," I respond.

"Oh," he pauses, pointing to the large guy. "This is Kisame Hoshigaki, my fiancé."

"Nice to meet you," I tell him.

He nods. "Likewise."

"So… Sasuke got himself shot?" Itachi asks, crossing his arms.

"Looks like it," I mutter.

"I told you that kid was going to get himself into some serious shit," the guy named Kisame says with a look of distaste. "If he survives, next time he might not be so lucky. The drug trade is a dirty business, no matter what part you play. This was inevitable."

Itachi closes his eyes and sighs. "I'm prepared," he admits. "I know it's going to keep getting worse. He's killing himself. Nonetheless, thank you for finding him. It was you, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, I was me," I say.

He just smiles faintly. "I'm not quite sure where to go from here," he admits. "I can't force him to do anything. He's an adult."

"He's a pretty dark kid," Kisame adds. "He has been for a while… Well, since your parents died."

"Death can do that to a child," Itachi sympathizes.

I can't help but recall what Sasuke said about his brother. He puts on a good show, but he's cold. I stare at him – really stare at him. His eyes are empty. It's like he doesn't feel anything at all.

Eventually a doctor walks into the room. She is blond and pretty with massive boobs. "Uchiha?"

"Here," Itachi says.

"I'm Tsunade Senju," she introduces herself. "I did Sasuke's procedure."

"Is Sasuke okay?" I ask her immediately.

"He will be," she says, "but he's in for a rough few nights. There are opiates in his system." A pause. "Are you all family?"

"I am," Itachi says and the doctor escorts him out of the room.

"He's okay," I murmur to myself.

"You doubted it?" Kisame asks.

"Partly," I admit. "He just… lost a lot of blood. It was on my hands…" I hold out my palms and stare down before shaking away the memory and forcing it to the back of my mind. I decide not to stick around after hearing the good news. "Tell Itachi I left and I hope his brother recovers fast," I say before leaving. I shove my hands in my pockets and walk out of the hospital. My chest feels tight. I sniffle and start crying by the time I'm halfway home. For fuck's sake, I'm such a baby. I can't handle anything. I'm overly sensitive. I don't know if these are happy tears of if they're sad tears. I guess they're both. I'm relieved he's alive but I'm upset because it'll probably happen again.

I work in the morning, but I doubt I'll be getting much sleep.

* * *

After my shift the following day, I decide to visit Sasuke at the hospital. I want to see how he's holding up. He looks like a sweaty mess. I'm sure they've got him on all kinds of analgesics to try and combat the withdrawal symptoms and take away the pain from the bullet wound. He's wearing a thin, cotton hospital gown and beneath it I can see the bandages. He looks miserable.

"Naruto," he says my name pointedly.

"Sasuke," I return it.

"I told you to stop," he murmurs. "I fucking knew this was going to happen and I knew if I lived that I'd end up going through withdrawal in a hospital and that makes getting shot that much fucking worse."

"I heard you," I tell him, "I just didn't listen."

He turns his head to the side, looking away from me. "I need to get out of here," he whispers offhandedly.

"Why?" I ask. "You're in a hospital. It's safe. There's a cop guarding your door."

"I need a fix," he murmurs, rubbing his clammy looking forehead with the back of his hand. "I will lose my shit if I have to stay here."

"You don't really have a choice in the matter," I remind him, nodding towards his bandaged chest. "You almost died, y'know. You should be lucky whoever did it had bad aim."

"No," he disagrees. "They missed my heart on purpose. If they wanted to kill me, I'd be dead on the spot. This was a warning."

"Warning?" I question.

"I owe some money…" he says vaguely.

I click my tongue. "What the hell are you going to do to pay it back?"

"Who knows…?" he mumbles. It looks like he's starting to space out, so I take my leave.

On my way out, I spot Itachi and Kisame talking to the doctor again. I hover until the conversation finishes and when they turn around, they spot me.

"Oh, Naruto…" Itachi greets me wearily. "Hello again."

I hold up a hand in response and ask, "How're you holding up?"

He just smiles faintly. "I'm not quite sure where to go from here," he admits.

"Maybe it isn't my business…" I start slowly, "but maybe you could try softening?" I can't help but remember how bitterly Sasuke spoke about his brother. I doubt their relationship is good. They don't seem very close.

"Softening?" Itachi repeats in question while Kisame lets out a callous laugh.

"Be emotional and stuff," I continue. "Show him you care – _really_ care."

Kisame lets out another laugh, as if the entire ordeal is hilarious. "Kid, quit while you're ahead. Itachi and Sasuke don't show much emotion. I've never met an Uchiha who was emotional. It's not in them to give away how they feel. Itachi can fake it 'til the cows come home, but tears are one thing he can't ever manage to squeeze out."

"Kisame," Itachi warns.

"How bleak," I murmur. I never understood people who don't cry. I cry often and it always makes me feel better – lighter, somehow. I can't imagine how bottling everything up must feel. To be that stifled… Well, it can't feel too great.

* * *

Come night, I buy a bottle of wine and make my way to Sakura's place. She texts me directions and I end up in front of a modest looking apartment building. She buzzes me in and I make my way up. When I'm in front of her place, I knock and a slim red-haired girl with glasses lets me in. "Hello," she says. "You must be Naruto?"

"Yeah," I say, holding out a hand.

"I'm Karin Uzumaki," she says, clasping it and giving me a firm shake. "Nice to meet you."

"Uzumaki…?" I repeat with a slight smile. "No kidding… That's my surname, too."

Karin smiles in return. "Funny," she says. "Maybe we're related. We should look into it."

"Yeah," I chuckle. Part of me hopes for it. I've never met anyone else who shared my name. I've never had a family.

She allows me in and I hand her the bottle of wine. "Mm, red," she says. "Merlot. My favorite."

"I thought it was a safe bet," I say with a laugh. "It's easy to drink."

She nods for me to follow her into a living room area. Inside, Sai and Ino are already sitting with Sakura. "Hello," I greet everyone, holding up a hand.

"Naruto brought wine," Karin says, "and we just found out we might be related."

"Seriously?" Sakura asks, looking surprised. "What's your last name, Naruto?"

"Uzumaki," I tell her.

"Wow," Sakura murmurs, a slight smile spreading across her face. "Where did you grow up?"

"In an orphanage in Uzushiogakure," I say. "It's a while away from Konohagakure."

"That's where my parents are from!" Karin exclaims, visibly excited. "Let's crack open this wine and we can play detective."


	3. Sasuke's sponsor won't give up

**Naruto © Masashi Kishimoto**

**Your reviews are appreciated, thanks! c: **

* * *

As it turns out, I am indeed related to Sakura's girlfriend. Imagine that – stupid orphan Naruto _does_ have some family left. Distant, but family nonetheless. I can't help but wonder if the orphanage knew I still had some relatives hanging around, would Karin's family have taken me in? Karin insisted yes. I can't help but think it's a damn shame I had to go through so much shit only to find out it could've been prevented.

Speaking of shit, I haven't seen Sasuke in quite a while. When I went back to the hospital, a nurse informed me that he left with his brother. I'm assuming Itachi is now taking care of him. At least, I hope he is.

I didn't end up getting any STIs, thank fuck. I either got very lucky, or Sasuke is clean.

The following weeks are a blur. I work and I spend a lot of my off time with Sakura, Sai and Ino. I'm getting to know Karin and Kiba as well. Apparently he has a rich girlfriend. He showed me a picture of her. He looked so damn proud. She's cute looking and quite the catch. He expressed frustration in not being able to afford to take her to nice places, though. I can understand that. I've never been able to afford anything nice. Maybe that's why I was such a skank when I was younger. I wanted a taste of the good life and I'd spread my legs to get it.

I spent the day cleaning my house. I want it to be somewhat presentable because we're having wine at my place tonight. Apart from Sakura, Karin, Sai and Ino, I also invited Kiba and told him he could bring his girlfriend and roomie.

The top floor is kind of scuzzy, but no one will be going up there since it's just my bedroom and a bathroom. The basement is storage space, so no one will be down there, either. The middle floor, however, needed some serious help. I bought a large rug earlier this week to cover up a questionable looking stain on the carpet in the living room. I also invested in a lamp, since the light fixtures are dim at the best of times. I put all my books on their shelves and rolled the lint off my sofas. In the kitchen, I did my best with the linoleum tiles. I took an old toothbrush to the corners, but there's definitely not a shine to it. I don't want to look dirty, even though I kind of am a dirty dude.

When everything is as tidy as it's gonna get, I bring out my wine glasses.

Around six, the doorbell rings. It's Kiba and behind him – I assume – is Shino and Hinata. Shino has tight, curly hair and a stoic look. Hinata has pale skin and dark hair with an almost purple tint to it. She looks shy, so I try to be as welcoming as I can. "Hi, come on in," I greet them with a smile, escorting them into the living room.

"Shino," Kiba points to the man, "and Hinata," he says, putting his arm around his girlfriend.

"Nice to meet you guys," I say as we all sit down. "I'm Naruto."

"Kiba told us about the wild night you two had a little while ago," Hinata says with a soft laugh.

"Yeah, it was pretty fucked," I admit with a nervous chuckle.

"That kid is lucky he's okay," Kiba says with a frown and I nod, agreeing wholeheartedly. Kiba smirks and jabs his thumb at me. "This guy was stark nude when I first met him. He wasn't even wearing underpants."

"I sleep naked," I confess with a laugh. "I heard the gun shot and didn't even bother getting dressed."

"You were quite picturesque," Kiba chortles. "In the nude, covered in blood. It was rather scary."

"I can imagine," I laugh again.

Soon, the doorbell rings again and when I answer it, Sakura, Karin, Sai and Ino are all standing there. I usher everyone inside and bring them into the living room. After introductions are out of the way, I crack open the first bottle of wine.

* * *

The night goes swimmingly. Sasuke doesn't cross my mind until I've said goodbye to everyone. As I stand on my porch and wave, I spot a man hovering in Sasuke's driveway. When everyone is gone, I decide to call, "Who are you looking for?" I feel somewhat nervous. What if he's the guy who shot Sasuke in the first place?

He walks up the driveway slowly and leisurely, with careless laziness. He has silver hair and a handsome face. There are bags under his tired looking eyes. "Do you know Sasuke?" he asks.

"Yeah, duh, I'm his neighbour," I say. "Who're you?"

"I'm his sponsor," the man reveals. "I've been his sponsor for years. He'll sober up, but it won't last."

"Yeah, that's not surprising," I mutter. "Is he home yet?"

"I knocked," he says. "There was no answer."

"He's probably with his brother still," I tell him. "I think Itachi was taking care of him when he left the hospital."

The man gives a solemn nod. "I hear he got himself into some trouble recently."

"That's one way to put it," I say with a grimace. "What's your name, anyhow?"

"Kakashi Hatake," he introduces himself.

"I'm Naruto Uzumaki," I say, doing the same. "Nice to meet you."

"Likewise," he returns the sentiment.

"So, honestly, just walk right in," I say. "I doubt he locks the door since people are always coming and going. He seems to thrive on that… money-wise." I hop over the railing and onto Sasuke's porch before reaching for the doorknob and opening it. Called it. I motion for Kakashi to follow me as I invite myself in. "Sasuke?" I holler. No answer, but if the door is unlocked then he must be back from his brother's care.

I wander throughout the house, taking time to actually look at it – unlike last time. Sasuke's home has the exact same layout as mine, but he has some nicer things. My place looks like more of a flop house than Sasuke's does, to be honest. The thought is somewhat disheartening. It sucks being poor.

I wander upstairs, where I know the bedroom is. I walk past the bathroom and into the only other door on the third floor. I knock before opening it.

Nothing! He's not here. He must've went out.

I go back downstairs and say, "He's not home."

Kakashi sighs and nods. "All right. Thanks for helping me out."

"No problem," I say carelessly. "I hope you find him."

With that, I go back home.

* * *

The following night, on my way home from work, I find Sasuke sitting on his front porch again. By now, it's dark and he's smoking. No sunglasses this time.

"Sounds like you had quite the little party last night," he says when I'm close enough, taking a long drag of his cigarette.

"Yeah, I had some friends over," I tell him.

He's in a simple, black t-shirt and a pair of plaid, pajama pants. His feet are bare and his hair is damp, like he just took a shower. He's still pale as a sheet, but he looks healthier than he was last time I saw him. I'll take comfort in that much, at least. He exhales slowly, a long wisp of smoke leaving his mouth. "How lovely," he mutters before taking another drag. "You were loud, so I went out."

"You're loud pretty much every night," I argue. "I hear the moaning and screaming and arguing coming from your place all the fucking time, so don't whine." He smiles faintly before faltering. He looks really tired. "You really got that junky thing down pat," I tell him in a murmur.

"You've got the dumb blond thing down pat," he responds, not missing a beat.

"You're an asshole," I mutter. "Upon being a junky, you're rude, too. You don't have a lot going for you."

"I'm sober," he reveals and I can't help but wonder if it will last. Probably not. Kakashi said that Sasuke is stuck in a cycle of relapses. "And apart from that, I'm attractive. You thought so, didn't you? That's why you were eager to let me get on my knees and give you head."

Well, I can't deny that part, but… "It won't last," I tell him. "Heroin makes you ugly after a while. All hard drugs do. Plus, if you're not careful with your needles and your sex, you can get all kinds of nasty infections and diseases."

"Cry me a motherfucking river," he says flatly. "I'm clean. I detoxed in the hospital and then I went to Itachi's for a while. I got back yesterday morning."

I find that relieving to hear. "I met your sponsor last night," I decide to change the subject slightly.

He lets out a long sigh. "What was that asshole doing here?"

"He seemed nice to me," I admit. "He was worried about you. Does that make him an asshole?"

"Yes," Sasuke confirms.

"Why are you so fucking bitter?" I ask, getting snappy.

"You don't matter," he starts. "I don't matter. Kakashi doesn't matter. Itachi doesn't matter. Life doesn't matter. We're all completely insignificant and to search for meaning in life is like searching for a needle in a haystack. There is no meaning, so it's pointless to exert that kind of effort on something that is just not possible. It's contrary to reason. It's stupid. It's unobtainable. It's incurable."

"Incurable?" I question.

"The only cure to life is death," he murmurs, "but since I'm too weak to actually go through with a thing like that, I live like this. Dangerously. I mean, death is inevitable, but if I keep living this way I'm sure death will find me sooner than it finds you."

"Life isn't something that needs a _cure_," I whisper harshly.

"What reason do you have to live?" he asks me offhandedly. "I've tried hard, but I can't think of an answer to that question. None of us have a reason to live, yet we keep living. Why? I don't understand it. Maybe, like me, everyone else is just too weak to die."

"No," I say sternly. "Life _does_ have meaning and there _are_ reasons to live."

"Yeah?" he challenges.

"Yeah," I say. "Happiness, for one thing."

His lips quirk upward as he repeats, "Happiness?"

"Yes, happiness," I continue. "Only weaklings kill themselves. Do you really wanna be a quitter? Life isn't supposed to be easy and fun all the time. It's fucking hard. I've seen my own fair share of shit and, yeah, I'll admit it – there are some times when I really want to just cry and give up… but I don't. I want to be happy. I think that's the meaning of life – finding happiness. I guess some people never find it and they're the ones who give up."

"How very," Sasuke murmurs hazily.

Saying it all aloud for the first time in my life kind of helps me put things into perspective. I honestly do think I'm on the right track this time.

"So, what the hell happened to you when you were away?" I pry.

"_Away_," he repeats with a mocking smile. "That's a nice way to put it… _Away_. Hm, I was healing, I suppose. Rehabilitating. I'm better now."

I can't help but scoff at that. "Addicts don't just recover like that," I try to reason. "Your body might be okay, but your mind isn't."

He gives me an incredibly dry look. "You don't know me, Naruto. Stop pretending we're friends."

"We could be, y'know," I tell hm. "I think you need a friend. I don't think you have any, do you?"

"I don't need friends," he says. "I don't need anything humanity has to offer. People are disgusting and I hate them."

"Oh," I say cynically, "is that why you let every fat toad who has a few bucks stick his dick in yah?"

He grits his teeth, putting out the cigarette against the brick walling of the house before standing. He stares at me through narrowed eyes before moving forward and slapping me across the face.

"_Ow_!" I growl, placing a palm over my sore cheek. "That fuckin' stung!" Nonetheless… "This is further proof that you _do_ care about stuff. If you didn't, you'd let me insult you 'til the damn cows come home."

"No," he denies it, turning around.

"C'mon," I urge, grabbing the back of his shirt.

"Go away!" he snaps, shaking me off. "You smell like fryer fat and it's making me nauseous!"

I chase him into his house. "Come on," I urge, slamming the door and following him upstairs. "Just fucking talk to me."

"Get out!" he nearly shrieks when we're standing in his room. He grabs an empty beer bottle and throws it at me. I dodge and let out a string of cusses as it shatters against the wall. He looks mildly surprised before an expression of utter indifference replaces it.

"If that hit my head, it could've killed me, you know," I point out.

"Too bad I missed," he responds cattily.

And then it's silent. We just stare at each other for a moment until I let my gaze wander. Unlike me, Sasuke has an actual bed. Like many of the things in his house, it's nice. The bedframe is simple, dark wood. The rest of the furniture matches – a nightstand with a lamp, a bureau of clothes and a desk with a shelf of books. "So, this is your room," I state.

"Yes," he says.

"It's nice," I tell him.

"Hn," he grunts, sitting down on the edge of his bed. He lets out a sigh, almost as if he's releasing the rest of his pent up anger. "You make me really angry. I don't know why. No one makes me react this way."

I approach him with caution – the way one would approach a cornered animal. I think that's honestly how he feels. Trapped.

"Why?" I wonder.

"I don't know," he murmurs.

When I'm standing in front of him, he rises to his feet and we make eye contact. I'm once again faced with his small stature. I feel like I could reach down and snap his neck like a twig and he'd crumble.

"Idiot," he says.

"Asshole," I respond.

And just like that, the dam breaks. I grab his face and close the gap between our mouths. We kiss sloppily and I feel his hands move beneath my polo shirt, rubbing up and down my chest and abdomen. When we part, he tugs on the fabric, telling me to remove it. I do, without hesitance. He reaches for my belt, unbuckling it before undoing the button on my khakis and slowly sliding the zipper down. He gets on his knees and frees my partial hard-on.

I stare down at the top of his head as he works his mouth. It feels good, somehow better than last time.

After a few minutes, he backs away and begins undressing. I watch eagerly as more and more smooth, milk-white skin is revealed. As he does removes his clothing, I take my pants and shorts off the rest of the way, stepping out of them when they pool at my feet. When I look up, Sasuke is bare, staring at me expectantly. He looks even better naked. He looks smooth and soft and perfectly unblemished apart from a fresh scar on his chest.

"Damn," I say appreciatively.

He gives me a small, humored smile. "So, how do you want me?" he asks. "On all fours or on my back?"

"Well, I want whatever you want," I say, "but I'd like to at least be able to look at you…"

"Then missionary it is," he decides before admitting, "It's been a while since I've done this position."

"Why?" I pry. "I thought people would want to look at you."

"It doesn't matter," he says. "If I'm working, I'd rather get it from behind so I don't have to actually see anything. It's easier to dissociate myself that way." He nears his nightstand, opening the first drawer and pulling out what I assume is lubricant.

"Are you okay with seeing me?" I wonder, nearing closer.

"Yes," he says. "You look nice."

"Are you –" I start, but he cuts me off.

"Naruto," he says my name as he interjects, "I think if you keep talking, you'll surely ruin the mood. We can talk after… unless you plan on leaving me alone."

"Of course not," I promise. I'm not into one night stands.

He opens the cap to the bottle and pours a generous amount into his hands before giving it to me. I take it and do the same, coating my dick absently as I watch him. I guess he's not gonna make me wear a rubber.

"Don't worry, I'm clean," he says, almost as though he's reading my mind.

He gets on the bed, lying on his back and spreading his legs before letting his hand travel down south. Fuck, that's hot. I join him and settle between his legs as he spreads them apart. He lets out soft, shallow pants as he touches himself. What a view.

I ghost my hands across the flat plane of his stomach, moving up past his nipples and over his chest. I bend down, licking before gently biting. He makes a quiet, pleased sound.

When I raise my head, I grab both of his wrists in my hand, pinning them against his stomach. With my other hand, I start rubbing and teasing his backside. "What're you –" he starts, cutting himself off by releasing a whiny moan as I slide two fingers in. "No more…" he pleads breathlessly. "Just fuck me, you asshole."

I stifle a smirk. I like seeing him all hot and bothered. When I'm with a cute guy, I like to admire before diving in.

"Hurry…" he urges me again a few minutes later.

This time, I oblige, releasing him. Slowly, I remove the digits and position myself against his entrance. He lets out a low moan, wrapping his legs loosely around my waist as I start fucking him.

Damn, he feels good.

"_Mm_… harder…" he says in a pleasured sigh.

This is power, intimate in nature. I found that out the last time I let a guy fuck me. He took advantage of the power I gave him. I vowed then and there to never do the same. I'll comply to Sasuke's every wish and whim.

He curls slender fingers around his cock, already leaking with pre-cum. "Ah… _hnn_… f-faster, Naruto…!" he demands, jerking himself off. Fuck, he's cute. I'd be a dick not to give him what he wants.

He's so loud. Well, I already knew that. I knew it from all the times I was forced to listen to him fuck strangers. I hope I never have to listen to it again, but I know that I probably will. Nonetheless, I'll enjoy him while I have him, regardless of what it means.

I watch him, revelling in the sounds of his orgasm. His back aches and his lips part. His breath hitches and he moans frantically, sobbing in and out. I fucking love the sound.

I feel his ass tighten around my dick and I let out a grunt. I continue fucking him until I feel heat pooling in my groin. "Want me to pull out?" I ask in a slightly strained voice.

"No," he sighs, watching me the way I was watching him mere moments earlier.

I finish with another grunt, slowing my pace before pulling out. I lie down next to him, releasing a content sigh. There's an unfamiliar warmth still lingering in my veins. It's like alcohol, but hotter, heavier and perhaps even more dangerous.

Sasuke perches himself up and stares down at me. "What?" I ask, staring back.

He doesn't respond. He just keep staring, as if he's studying me. I keep my mouth shut and do the same, still trying to commit every inch of him to my memory. He's so fucking beautiful. It makes me want to keep him, but he isn't something I can put in my pocket and take home. He's a human being.

He bends down, his face nearing mine. We kiss again, but this time we do it slowly and it's as if we're trying to memorize the taste of each other. I move my tongue across his lips and his teeth, trying to retain the feeling of him. I pull him closer, so our flushed chests are pressed skin on skin. My hands move down his back, cupping his backside and squeezing. "Mm…" he moans into my mouth. When we part, he stares at me with a wanton expression and says, "You're a nice fuck. I'll have to have you over again soon."

I offer him a humored smile, but I don't respond. I wouldn't know how to, even if I wanted to.

"I've never been fucked like that before," he admits.

"Really?" I ask. "Is that a good thing?"

"It was nice," Sasuke says.

"It hasn't been nice any other times?" I pry.

He looks thoughtful and then sombre. He shifts, lying against me. I put my arm around him, keeping him close. I don't push for answers. Instead, I just wait. After a few minutes of silence, he admits, "No."

"It should always be nice," I tell him. "Haven't you had boyfriends?"

"Some," he says. "Some of them were nice, but boys like to talk big. A lot of them didn't even know their own anatomy, let alone how to please another person. Others weren't nice and they just took what they wanted… just like my clients. I had my first boyfriend when I was fourteen. He was seventeen. After a week of dating, he took my virginity by force." A pause. "I fucking hate men sometimes."

"Yeah," I murmur weakly. Shit, I feel for him. I wish I knew what to say. Do I tell him about my shitty experiences, or would I seem like a dick trying to make the conversation about myself? Do I apologize to him and act sympathetic? I don't fucking know.

"Say something," he demands.

"I'm sorry," I say, choosing the latter option. "People are toads."

He lets out a bitter laugh. "Yeah, there's one way to put it." He lets out a sigh and I feel his warm breath blow against my skin. "Sometimes I think about all my shitty experiences… and I realize that there was really never any hope in me being a normal and functional member of society."

"I feel that," I admit. "Some people are just… set up to lose, in a way. Then society blames us… like it's our fault."

"Mm…" he muses in vague agreement.

He doesn't talk about himself anymore after that. Instead, he asks me about my life. I tell him I grew up in an orphanage. I tell him about my many attempted escapes. I tell him about the good fucks and the bad fucks. I tell him about work. I tell him about the friends I've made. I tell him that I drink because I'm bored, but not because I'm sad. Then I tell him that might be a bit of a lie. I tell him about my favorite books and the TV shows I tend to watch. I tell him about my hobbies. I tell him I used to draw, but I haven't in a long time. I tell him about the little things, the big things, the unimportant things and the important things. The entire time, he listens silently, not interrupting or judging. Somehow, it eases me. I feel like, as I'm here emptying myself to him, he has the power. He could use it against me, but he doesn't. Perhaps he's not as cold as I once thought.

"The first time I saw you in the bar, I thought you were fucking beautiful," I finish.

He lets out a quiet chuckle and simply says, "Thanks."

Now he knows my life story – from start to finish… but I still don't know his. That's fine, though. I'll wait.

* * *

For days, things continue like this and it's nice. Right now, we're sitting in his living room talking. Just talking. It's been quiet at his place and when I ask him how he's been paying his bills, he says Itachi has been doing it while he continues to focus on his emotional recovery.

"What else do you have to recover from?" I pry.

"Addiction isn't purely physical," he explains. "It's like you said to me the other day - Just because your body is healing, it doesn't mean your mind isn't screaming for a fix. Addiction… it stays. It's always there. There's always that stupid, annoying voice telling you to remember how good it feels. You were right when you called me out for lying about being fixed."

"Yeah," I mutter. I don't want him to relapse. Things are pretty civil and pleasant between us and I don't want that to change. We haven't slept together again, but that's fine. I haven't heard strangers at his place, either, which is also more than fine.

A few minutes later, there's a knock on the door. Sasuke stares at me expectantly, telling me to go answer it with use of little words. With a sigh, I stand up and walk down the hallway. When I open the door, I see Sasuke's sponsor.

"Hey," I say as I open the door and allow him in. "Sasuke is here today."

He nods and I walk him into the living room. As soon as Sasuke spots him, he sneers. Kakashi, however, doesn't look discouraged. Instead, he simply smiles.

Sasuke lets out a sigh. "Let me guess – Itachi told you what happened and he wants you to help keep an eye on me?"

"Yeah," Kakashi confirms.

"Well," Sasuke gestures to himself, "as you can see, I'm perfectly fine. I don't need everyone watching my every step."

"You got _shot_," Kakashi points out monotonously.

"Shit happens," Sasuke says with a very careless shrug of his shoulders. He pulls his shirt up and says, "As you can see, I've healed nicely."

"Maybe next time you won't be so lucky," Kakashi counters.

"One can only hope," Sasuke says with a forlorn sigh.

I hate when he starts talking like that. He speaks too carelessly about the possibility of death, like he would gladly welcome it.

"Things are never as bad as you think, Sasuke," Kakashi tries to reason. "There's always a way out, no matter how deep you are."

Sasuke laughs callously and says, "Shut up."

"Do you enjoy it?" Kakashi continues. "Do you enjoy being seen as less by everyone you let slip inside of you? Do you like playing the part of the whore?"

"Shut _up_," Sasuke repeats himself, terser this time. He's burning holes into Kakashi's head. If looks could kill…

Kakashi ignores his request once more. "People don't respect you and it's your fault, Sasuke. You don't demand respect. I don't know where this nonchalant attitude comes from, but it needs to stop. You're acting like an immature child. I've known you for two years and you haven't grown up at all. I've tried being nice, perhaps it's time to be cruel. You enjoy that, don't you? You like being abused."

"Shut up!" Sasuke shouts again, moving forward and shoving Kakashi. "I shouldn't have to demand respect to get it!"

"But you do," Kakashi says. "That's life."

"Get out of my damn house! Go!" Sasuke shrieks. "I _hate_ you!"

I come up behind Sasuke, grabbing both of his elbows and forcing him to still. He's acting like a spoiled child.

Kakashi gives him a piteous stare and says, "I'll leave, but I'm coming back and I expect you to talk to me. For now, just cool down."

"No, bite me," Sasuke snaps. I don't let him go until Kakashi is gone. "Shitty dumbass," he insults me in a mutter, not bothering to turn around and face me as he says it. He wanders out of the room and goes upstairs.

I follow him somewhat miserably. He's so fucking moody. One day, he's up… and the next, he's down.

"Sasuke," I say his name. "C'mon, talk to me… I've told you every fucking detail of my life and you can't even tell me when you're feeling like shit."

"Shut up," he says. "You're annoying." He moves into his room and changes into a pair of comfortable sweatpants and a plain, grey t-shirt.

"Tell me something I don't know," I challenge lightly.

Sasuke looks thoughtful for a moment until finally speaking. "I used to have a huge crush on him – on Kakashi," he says with a snort. "He's a lot older than me, but I didn't care. I met him when I was sixteen. Itachi made me go to a support group and Kakashi ended up as my sponsor. That lasted all of five seconds, nonetheless he still checks up on me. I wanted him to fuck the shit out of me… but he's a really nice guy and he wasn't about to take advantage of a sixteen year old junky."

"Good," I mutter. "That was probably the last thing you needed."

He makes a face at me. "You don't know what's best for me, Naruto."

"Neither do you," I snort, "but to be honest, I think I do know better than you."

"Dumbass," he murmurs. "I hate that kind of attitude! Only_ I_ know what's best for me, so stop being so damn patronizing. You're a dumbass. An annoying dumbass."

"And you're a dick," I respond. "Why are you like this?"

"I don't know," Sasuke admits. "I could pinpoint lots of reasons."

"There's probably something wrong with you," I tell him. "I mean… none of this is exactly normal."

He just shrugs. Without another word, he crawls into bed. "I'm gonna sleep," he says. "You don't need to linger."

So, I don't.

* * *

Soon, Sasuke starts acting secretive again. I know exactly what that means. I'm not stupid.

I'll confront him next time I see him.


	4. Letting it out and making a change

**Naruto © Masashi Kishimoto**

**To the guest reviewer who doesn't like tragedy - I don't really want to give spoilers in the author's note and I can't respond since you're on anonymous, but I'll say that you are definitely fine believing the genre :b if you come off anon I will happily give you all the spoilers if you're still worried, though! Same goes for everyone with any of my in progress stories I'm posting. I don't mind spoilers. I know that sometimes it's stressful reading a story and not knowing how it ends haha. **

* * *

After work, I stroll up Sasuke's driveway just in time to see a stranger leaving. I bite my tongue, not wanting to start shit with the wrong kinds of people. When he's far enough away, I enter Sasuke's house. I find him in his room. It's dark and messy. He's lying on a pile of blankets on the floor, looking hazy. "Are you using again?" I ask him bluntly.

"Yes," he admits in a flat tone.

I'm not surprised. I half expected it. The only part that surprises me is that he admitted to it without a fight. "Well, then," I murmur. "What now?"

"Nothing," he decides. "Nothing matters. I don't matter. The way I live my life doesn't affect anyone."

"You're wrong," I protest. "It affects everyone around you. It affects all your neighbours, it affects your brother…"

I roll my eyes at that, grabbing his hands and forcing him to stand up. I grab his blankets off the floor and toss them on his bed.

"You know what I'd love?" I ask him offhandedly.

"What?"

"I'd _love_ to see you cry," I say.

His eyebrows draw together at the confession. "Why?" he wonders. "You want to see me in pain?"

"You're _already_ in pain," I remind him. "I just want you to let it out."

His lips quirk upward into a cynical looking smile. "I don't cry," he says.

"Everyone cries," I insist.

"I haven't cried in years," he reveals. "I don't plan on starting anytime soon. So, too bad for you."

I don't understand people who don't cry. It's such a weird thing to me.

"No one is as cold as you pretend to be," I say. "If you let people in, you'd feel a hell of a lot better, y'know. You're lonely. It's obvious."

He scoffs at me. "Naruto, you're always overstepping your bounds. I ought to beat your ass."

I chuckle at that. "I'd love to see you try."

He shoves me lightly before crawling back onto his bed. "Can you just, like…" he pauses, trailing off. When I think he's about to tell me to go away, he asks, "Can you stay here?"

I soften at that. "Yeah, of course." I get in bed with him and he shifts close, lying against me with his head resting on my shoulder and his hand resting on my chest. "Sasuke, why do you do this to yourself?" I ask quietly.

"I do it… 'cause I hate myself," he murmurs. "I'm lonely. It's just like you said. It's just like Kakashi said. I have a hard time accepting help… accepting kindness… because I feel like I don't deserve any of it… but I want it. That's why you scare me so much."

"I scare you?" I question.

"Mm…" he mumbles. "I'm high maintenance. No one sticks around. That's why I keep pushing you away… so then, when you finally leave, maybe it won't hurt as much."

The confession makes my heart ache. "I'm not going to leave," I promise him. "I really like you… and whether or not you feel the same way doesn't matter. I just want to be your friend."

He lets out a soft sigh followed by another and another. Then I realize he's not sighing. He's crying. Fucking finally. I put my arms around him, pulling him even closer. It sounds like he's struggling, trying hard to control his emotions.

"It's okay," I whisper softly, moving a hand through his hair. "Let it out, just let it out."

He releases a loud, keening sound followed by a strong of cough-like sobs. "I need help…" he cries. "Help me…"

"I will," I promise him gently. He doesn't say anything more after that. He just continues to cry. It sounds like he's grieving. What he's grieving for, however, I'm not sure. Perhaps it's that loss of innocence that disappeared far too early.

He cries for a long time and I feel my shirt dampen, but I don't mind. I'm just glad he's finally letting it all out. When he finally quiets, it feels like hours have gone by. I don't mind that, either.

"I don't really want to die," he admits weakly, "but living scares me." He looks up at me and I can't help but think, as strange as it sounds, that he looks pretty even when he cries.

"That's okay," I gently promise. "We can work on it."

* * *

Since I have a day off, I stick around and stay by his side when the withdrawal starts. It sets in pretty quick, less than a day after he quits. He does it cold turkey and I make sure not to give him the time to try and get himself a fix.

"Isn't it dangerous to just up and quit like this?" I wonder.

"I don't care," he grits out.

"Do you have any drugs around here?" I ask him. He's lying on his bed, looking thoroughly miserable.

"In a bin under my bed," he admits quietly. "Near the bottom, there's some stuff…"

I kneel and reach a hand under the bed until I feel it. When I pull it out, I take the cover off and start to rummage. I can't help but wince. There's a lot of drug paraphernalia in here. It's some pretty scary looking shit.

"Is it okay for me to get rid of this?" I ask him.

"Mm… yeah…" he says, sounding somewhat unsure.

"I'll just take it next door," I say. "Then, when you're ready, you can be the one to dispose of it. How about that?"

"All right…" he agrees, sniffling a bit. It's been like this all day. He's sweating and shivering. It's not a happy sight. He looks paler than usual. Every few minutes he wipes his nose on his hand unceremoniously. For some reason, I'm not grossed out by him. I feel like if this were anyone else, I'd be repulsed. But I just feel kind of sad and I want to help.

"I'll be super quick," I promise, picking the bin up and leaving the room. I hobble downstairs and open the front door, going back into my own house. I leave the bin in the kitchen. Maybe it's stupid for me to be hiding a bunch of drug shit in my house, but whatever.

When I'm back in Sasuke's room, he starts whining and moaning.

"Are you sure you don't want me to take you to a hospital or a detox clinic?" I offer.

"No…" he pleads. "Don't…"

"Okay," I say. "I won't."

But it's obvious I'm going to need help because I have no fucking idea what I'm doing or what to expect – unlike Sasuke, who has done this a few times before.

"Ugh," he moans, sniffling and forcing himself up. "Take me to the bathroom before I shit myself."

I simply nod, picking him up with ease and taking him to the bathroom. He feels light. If anything, he's even lighter than he should be.

He locks the door and I tell him to holler if he needs me. I decide to change his sheets since they are literally soaked with sweat. Poor fucker. I wonder how many times he'll need to go through this to finally stop.

I put the dirty sheets in a laundry basket and just put a couple towels on the bed instead. When I go back to the doorway I hear the toilet flush and not five seconds later I hear vomiting. It sounds like he just puked on the floor.

"Sasuke?" I call, knocking on the door.

"Go…" he demands weakly. "I'm fine."

Yeah, right. Nonetheless, I won't barge in. After a minute of silence, I hear the shower nozzle turn on followed by more puking. He hasn't eaten anything. It's just bile he's puking up and bile won't clog the drain, so I'll leave him in there for a little while.

I honestly can't imagine it. I turn into a big crybaby when I have a stomach ache. I can't imagine going through withdrawal pains. I think I'd rather just kill myself.

I sit at the edge of his bed, listening to the shower run from the other side of the wall. He's still puking. I decide to call Sakura, since I'm at a loss for what to do. She might know about this stuff and she's kind of my only hope right now. Sasuke would flay me if I called 911.

"_Hello?"_ I hear after a couple rings.

"Hey," I greet. "It's me – Naruto. Um… do you know anything about drug withdrawal?"

"_Yes_…" she says slowly. "_Why are you asking?"_

"Sasuke is going through heroin withdrawal right now and I don't know how to help," I reveal to her.

"_You should take him to a hospital, Naruto_," she says. "_They have better resources there_."

"I can't…" I murmur. "He'd seriously kill me. Just… Just tell me what to expect."

"_Well, how long has it been since his withdrawal started?"_ she asks.

"Like…" I pause in thought. "I think it has been about twelve hours?"

"_The symptoms will start waning after two or three days_," she explains. "_The symptoms will be flu-like_," she continues. "_But when I say that, I don't mean minor. He'll be very, very sick. He'll feel cramped, nauseous. His nose might run, his eyes might water, he'll likely be sweating a lot. He'll probably get, um… the trots. He won't have much energy. He'll be very tired and goose bumpy. He'll probably have trouble sleeping. His blood pressure will probably be at an all time low so if he stands up, he might get dizzy. He also might feel anxious and want to use again to stop all the pain_."

"Great," I mutter.

"_When the worst is over, he'll be moody_," she continues. "_He'll have difficulty concentrating and he probably won't want to be around anyone. He might have trouble getting his sleep schedule back to normal. He'll also probably be a little airy, so it's good if you continue to keep an eye on him until he's completely back to normal._"

"All right," I say. I guess I'll have to call in sick to work. I'll make up some shit about a family emergency.

_"Also try to distract him_," she adds. "_It might help and it might not, but try reading to him or letting him watch TV_."

"I don't think he likes TV," I admit, "but I'll try finding a book to read to him when he's out of the shower."

"_All right_," she responds softly. "_Don't hesitate to call me if you need anything else. I'm on my way home and I can pop over if there's anything you need from the store_."

"This might be a selfish request," I start, "but could you just, like, bring me food? There isn't much here and I don't have anything at my place, either."

I hear her chuckle. "_Yeah, sure. I'll bring Sasuke something, too. I'll make sure it's easily digestible and he can eat when he's feeling up to it_."

"Thanks, Sakura, seriously," I say with sincerity. After that, I hang up the phone and I walk back to the bathroom. I knock on the door and ask Sasuke if he's okay. When he doesn't respond, I try to open the door. Alas, it's locked.

With a sigh, I turn into his room and start rummaging through drawers in an attempt to find a fine-toothed comb or something that I could use to pick the lock. After a few minutes, I find exactly what I'm looking for. I move back into the hallway and insert the comb into the doorknob, wiggling it until I hear the desired _click_. When I swing open the door, there's a puddle of puke on the floor. It's nothing too gross. Like I said, just bile. I guess that in itself is a bit gross, but I'm not too bothered. I've seen way worse shit than this.

"Sasuke," I say his name, stepping over the puke and nearing the shower. I pull back the curtain and see him sitting on the floor of the tub. "Dude, you should get out of there."

"No…" he murmurs airily he lurches forward and throws up some more.

I wince and relent for now. I decide to clean the floor off while he sits in the shower. I guess I don't blame him for staying in there. It's a bit counterproductive to get out while he's still puking.

I open the cupboard under the sink and get out the cleaning supplies. I get on my knees and clean the barf before disinfecting the floors. Once it's clean, I wash my hands and put the supplies away before checking on Sasuke once more. He's still looking miserable as ever.

"Why don't you come out?" I urge. "I'll get you something to wear and read to you or we can watch something on TV together."

"Hn…" he mumbles. "Get me a house coat. I don't wanna wear clothes."

"All right," I say before leaving the room. I sift through the clothes in his closet until finding one. It's plain black and made of a thin, cotton material. I bring it to him and say, "It's on the counter."

Then the doorbell rings.

"Who the fucking hell is that?" Sasuke snaps, peering at me from behind the curtain.

"My friend Sakura," I say. "She's bringing food."

"What a saint," he mutters tartly.

I go downstairs and let her in, greeting her with a forced smile. She smiles in return and we move into the kitchen.

"I brought you ramen," she says, offering me the take out bowl.

"Mm, my fav!" I grin, taking it from her and opening it up. Smells divine.

"For your friend, I just got an assortment of yoghurt cups and some bananas. I also have ingredients to make a good broth. It's always better when it's the real stuff, not that canned crap."

"You're literally amazing," I tell her with a sigh, prying the chopsticks apart and digging in.

"I know," she winks, setting everything out on the counter.

"Just a warning – Sasuke is sour as hell and he's probably going to be a bit rude when he sees you in his house…"

She chuckles and says, "All right, I think I can fend him off."

I turn around and when I'm about to go see how he's doing I spot him hovering in the doorway with a dull look. His hair is damp and he's wearing the house coat. He looks pallid and sickly. "Hi," he says to Sakura. "I'm Sasuke – the sour guy."

I wince. He heard me.

Sakura smiles at him and says, "Hi, I'm Sakura. I'm Naruto's friend."

"Yes, I've heard," Sasuke murmurs. "I remember you."

"I remember you, too," she says before asking, "Think you'll be able to eat something?"

"No," he says flatly, sitting down at the table. His movements are slow and groggy, like he's having a hard time keeping himself upright.

"You should try," she says. "It's important to keep your body hydrated, especially. You're losing a lot of liquids."

"If I throw up again it's your damn fault," Sasuke mutters, lying his head on the table. I smile somewhat piteously and pull up a chair next to him, discarding my ramen in favor of rubbing his back. "Feels good…" he mumbles.

* * *

After everyone is finished eating, Sasuke retreats back upstairs. Hopefully he won't get sick again. He didn't get much food in, but at least he managed to get something in.

"He isn't what I expected," Sakura says softly, putting the rest of the soup away in the fridge.

"I know, right?" I snort in agreement. I help her tidy up and we sit at the table to talk.

"He hasn't really changed, I suppose," she adds as an afterthought. "I think I expected more of a stereotype." A pause. "You like him, don't you?" she asks, smiling a small smile.

"That obvious?" I chuckle.

"A bit," she says.

"He has this weird magnetism…" I murmur, "and you can't help but feel drawn to him."

Sakura nods. "I can understand that," she says dreamily. "I was fifteen when I met Karin. I thought I liked boys at the time, but she made me realize I didn't. At first, I thought I just really wanted to be her friend. But no, it was romance I was feeling. Romance in the purest sense of the word. I just wanted to be with her. She was a transfer student. She acted kind of stupid and loud, but it only made me want to know her. I wanted to know all about her."

I can't help but smile as she talks. I've always been one for romance. "How'd you finally meet her?" I ask.

"Some kid had a birthday party," she laughs. "Naturally, there was alcohol. So, after a couple drinks, I gathered the courage to say hi to her. I was nervous, but she was friendly. We stuck by one another for the entire night. I thought it was going to be one of those times where you meet someone at a party but you never talk to them again once you're sober… but it wasn't like that. At school, she waved to me. I guess that's how our friendship started, but I still wanted more. I was really damn confused."

"How'd you find out what you truly wanted?" I pry.

Sakura laughs again. "It's embarrassing," she admits. "I told Ino how I felt and she straight up told me I was gay for Karin. It's something I never considered before. I guess it made sense. I found myself looking at girls a lot. I suppose I just thought it was normal and that they were thinking the same things I was. Nonetheless, I cried because I thought Karin would hate me or find it weird… but she didn't. She said she felt the same way. So, we've been together ever since and no one gave us any shit for it."

"That's good," I tell her. "Surprising, but good. Kids can be so vile."

She nods, still faintly smiling. "Anyway," she sighs, standing up. "I ought to head out. It's getting late and Karin is probably going to be home from work soon. She'll probably chuckle at the fact that I spent time at Sasuke's house."

I snicker at that and walk Sakura to the door. We part ways with a hug. "Thank you," I tell her yet again before she leaves.

"Sure thing," she grins, holding a hand up before exiting.

When she's gone, I go into the living room and grab the first book that seems interesting enough. After that, I find Sasuke in his room. He's lying in bed. It's dim – with only the lamp on the nightstand lighting up the area.

"Want me to read to you?" I offer.

"Hn…" he grunts.

I'll take that as a yes. I sit on the side of the bed nearest to the light and open up to the first page.

* * *

As the days pass, so does the worst of it. The cold sweats are mostly over, but he's still shivering. He's asleep now, thankfully.

I wander around his house. I'm being a little bit nosy. In the living room, I start going through the photo album on the bottom of his bookshelf. There are lots of pictures. Some of them look old. Sasuke is young and smiling in the most of them. He's with his family, I assume. They're all pretty people. As I continue leafing through, a sheet of paper falls out and onto the floor. I close the album and pick it up. It's a handwritten note addressed to Sasuke. It's a block of neatly printed text. Before I can try to stop myself, I begin reading –

_Sasuke: You're disgusting. How many times do you need to do this for it to sink in? It's not worth it. Drugs take away your self-respect, not that you have much left anyway. No one likes you. The only reason people can stand to be around you is because you're offering them something – a fuck. You're such a dumb slut. It's always been like that, ever since you were a stupid kid. You let everyone use you. You let everyone take and take and take. Then, in the end, there's nothing left. You're nothing. You don't matter. Maybe that's why this cycle is endless. Maybe you're just obsessed with the drama of it all. You're outsides might look all right, but you're ugly as hell on the inside. Ask yourself why I'm writing this letter. Go ahead. Do it. Have you remembered? I know you're not as sharp as you used to be, but hopefully you can still recall an event that happened just a mere week ago. Last week you got arrested. It was a potential drug bust. Five cops barged into the rooms with their guns out, but all they found was you on your knees with your ass up getting fucked by a few strangers. How fucking humiliating is that? Lucky for you, first time offenders only get a night in jail. The boys at the station let you off with a warning, but now you're in the book as a whore. I guess that's all you really are. You made the news and everything. Quite the scandal for your family name. Good thing your parents are dead. They'd never recover from that kind of shame. Honor killing – ever heard of it? Maybe you should give it a try. Every part of you is sick. What do you have to offer without redemption? Nothing. Just kill yourself. Save Itachi the trouble and end your life sooner than later. This way he can get the expenses out of the way. I can see it now – an expensive funeral, but no one will come. Why? Because you have no one. You're alone. You're nothing. Your existence doesn't matter because all you are is a burden. When you die your brother will just shake his head and sigh. He's expecting it. Everyone is. _

"God," I murmur aloud. How cruel… for someone to write such an awful letter to him. I wonder why he would keep something like this?

From behind me, I hear Sasuke laugh. I turn around and see him hovering in the doorway with crossed arms, leaning against the side. "I wrote that," he confesses and it surprises me. "I wrote it a week after I was arrested for prostitution. I feel like that was my last sane thought. Perhaps it was my sanity saying farewell. I keep it around because it's a reminder, I suppose."

"A reminder?" I question.

"A reminder that I don't really matter," he says with a lazy shrug.

"Stop saying shit like that."

"It's true," he argues.

"You should move back in with your brother," I say before ripping the letter up. I expect him to shout at me for it, but he doesn't. He just watches silently. I ball the crumpled scraps up in my hand and move into the kitchen to toss it in the trash.

Sasuke follows me. "You want me to leave?" he asks after a long silence.

"No," I murmur. "I want you to _stay_. Stay living. Stay in my life. That's why you should move back in with your brother."

"I can't believe you still want to be around me after knowing I almost shit myself," he admits.

"Everyone shits, I don't care about that," I tell him dismissively. "What if the person who shot you comes back to finish the job?"

"He won't," Sasuke says surely.

"Why didn't you tell the cops?" I ask. I don't understand how he can be nonchalant about this.

"My reputation is shit," Sasuke points out. "No one would care. They'd say I had it coming. There's no point in even trying."

"Just say the name," I urge.

"But _why_?" he snaps. "Saying it won't change anything."

"I think you need to say it," I tell him.

He presses his lips together, shaking his head.

I'm getting impatient, but trying not to show it. Maybe he's scared. I can understand why. "Come on…"

He lets out a slow breath. "Waraji," he finally says.

"Waraji?" I repeat in question.

He nods. "Him and a guy named Zori are the muscle for a guy named Gato. He's the dealer. He's very greedy. Money is all he cares about. I owed him some… No, I owed him quite a sum. Itachi took care of it, though. He gave me the money and I gave it to Gato. He won't give me any more trouble. That's how this goes, you see. As long as you don't have a debt, you're safe… but the debt is what keeps you hooked. They say they'll give you a little more and a little more as long as you promise to keep paying… with interest. That's where they catch you."

"Shit," I mutter.

"Yeah, shit," he says. "I guess that's why I was whoring around more than usual… I was trying to make enough to pay back the debt I owed. Didn't work. They got impatient. They knew I came from a family with lots of money, but I had too much pride to ask for Itachi's help... in the end, he gave them what they wanted anyway."

Damn, he must have owed them a lot of fucking money.

"That was around when I moved in, huh?" I ask in faint recollection. "Every damn night I'd hear you through the walls, getting fucked by some stranger."

He smiles bitterly. "Yeah. I bet I made a great first impression."

"That won't happen again, will it?" I hope to fuckin' God it doesn't. I don't want to watch him go through any of this ever again. He deserves better.

"I don't know," he admits. "You don't understand addiction on the level I do, Naruto. You drink because you're bored, right? I do drugs because it makes me forget how much fucking pain I'm in. Escapism, or whatever."

I let out a quiet sigh. I know he's right. I don't understand what it's like. I don't understand what he's going through. I don't understand any of it.

"For the longest time I felt like drugs were the only lover I'd ever want," he starts. "Heroin was always there for me when the people in my life weren't. My parents weren't particularly family-oriented, but after they died in that accident I lost what little support I had. It didn't seem like much, but with it gone it felt like a lot. I was lonely. Itachi was always working. I fell in with bad crowds, trying to get his attention. I got in trouble, but he'd never react. So, I turned to hurting myself to cope with all the fucked up shit going on because I was alone. Who else could deal with a rigid asshole like me?"

"Don't say that about yourself," I murmur.

"But I'm _right_," he insists bitterly. "Itachi started telling me to stop fucking around when I was already in way too deep. His attention didn't mean anything anymore. I no longer wanted it. I just wanted a fix. I wanted to feel good. I wanted to forget."

"I'm sorry," I sympathize.

"It is what it is," he says with finality and I can tell the conversation is over.

* * *

The next time I see Sakura at the Laundromat, she invites me to a party. "Karin's birthday is coming up," she explains. "It'd be awesome if you showed. If possible, try convincing Sasuke to tag along. I know Karin would probably take some comfort in seeing him in the flesh and knowing he's still breathing. Tell him his old friends will be there, people he hasn't seen in a while."

I smile faintly. "Yeah, I'll definitely try."

Later on, I make my way to Sasuke's house. I swear, I spend more time at his place than I do my own these days. I let myself in and find him in his room, per usual. I tell him about Karin's birthday and say, "She wants you there."

He lets out a bitter laugh and flat-out refuses. "No."

"Why?" I ask, sitting at the edge of his bed.

"I already know what she means by 'old friends' of mine," he murmurs. "Karin will have Suigetsu and Jugo there and they'll all see how pathetic I am. I don't want that."

They're two names I don't recognize. "If they were your friends, I doubt they would judge you so harshly."

"Everyone judges everyone, Naruto," he informs me flatly. "Maybe you live in a world of sunshine and fuckin' unicorns where that doesn't happen, but I live in reality and in reality it _does_ happen. We can't help but judge people. It's in our nature. People who say they don't judge are just eating ass and lying to your face."

I huff. He's so damn cynical. "Just come," I try again. "It'll give you a reason to put something besides pajamas on."

"No," he says again. "We're adults now and adults talk about jobs and school and other accomplishments. I have none of those things. I'd have nothing to talk about and if anyone tried asking me I swear I'd throw a bitch fit. So… it's for the best. You can go and I'll stay in bed."

"No!" I exclaim. "Holy _shit_, Sasuke. This isn't healthy. If you want to recover, the road to health is _not_ by lying in bed all day."

"Go away," he says with a careless sigh.

I puff up my cheeks and try not to start yelling. I hold my breath for a few seconds before exhaling.

"Am I pissing you off?" he asks, staring up at me.

"Yes," I admit in a mutter. "Look, the party isn't for another week. At least think about coming, okay?"

"Fine," he seethes, burying his face into his pillow and pulling the blankets up over his head. "You're annoying."

"Yeah, I know," I say. "I'm annoying because I care. The more you lie in bed, the harder it is to get up. The more you stay in the dark, the harder it is to let the light in. Look, I'm speaking from experience when I say the only way you'll start feeling better is it you actually force yourself to be proactive."

"Hn…" he grunts.

"Let me take you out on a date," I request.

"No," he says again.

"Why not?" I ask.

"I don't want people to see me," he murmurs, pulling the blankets down and staring at me again. "The day crowd are a bunch of business men and women. They're assholes. The night crowd… The night crowd is full of people like me. Trash. I'm more comfortable in the dark."

"I'm no business man," I admit. "I have little schooling. My vocabulary isn't the best and I speak with a bit of a twang. I don't care, though. I still go out during the day and I make good with what I've got. You should, too."

"We're two very different people," he says. "You're more optimistic than I am. You're more extroverted. You're nicer. You smile a lot and people like you."

"I bet people would like you, too, if you let them," I respond.

He just laughs. "Go away, Naruto."

"No," I say easily. "I'm not leaving until we've made some fuckin' progress."

I know I need to get rid of my holier-than-thou attitude, but it's hard. I don't really think I'm better than he is, I just have a hard time understanding what is going through his head.

He lets out a sharp sigh. He's getting short with me again. "_Fine_," he snaps. "I'll go to the stupid party, now go away."

"You better not go back on your word," I warn. "Promise breakers are assholes."

"I won't," he mutters. "Now, seriously, go the fuck home."

* * *

Sasuke's sponsor has been up his butt as much as I have. I think he hates it, but no one really wants to leave him alone much these days. The following day, as I'm coming home from work, I see a distantly familiar vehicle parked in Sasuke's driveway. Itachi is there. Good.

From outside, I can hear arguing. Naturally. As I walk up the stairway and onto my front porch, Sasuke's door swings open and Kisame walks out. The shouting grows louder until he shuts it.

"Blondie," he greets me somewhat wearily.

"Hi," I greet him in return. "What's going on in there?"

"The usual," he snorts. "Sasuke is being whiny, refusing to get out of bed."

"He's in pain," I say somewhat tersely, angered by his blatant insensitivity. Without a good support system, Sasuke has no hope. I guess that's why I'm fucked up. I never had support. I'm sure the same goes for him.

Kisame only shrugs his shoulders, shoving his hands into the pockets of his pants. "I have no sympathy for people who don't try to get themselves out of shitty situations. I don't care that he's sick. I don't care that he's an addict."

I don't really know what to say to that. "What _do_ you care about, then?"

"Not much, to tell the truth," he admits with a humored smile.

"You're getting married, right?" I recall. "Do you care about your husband-to-be?"

"I think you know the answer to that," he responds. "If I didn't, I wouldn't be getting married to him."

"And if Sasuke died, don't you think Itachi would be sad?"

Kisame isn't smiling anymore.

"See?" I murmur before going inside.

I go up to my room and jerk off before making myself something to eat. Eventually, the hollering from next door stops. I don't get how they can just scream at one another for hours on end. I'd get so sick of it. In fact, I _am_ sick of it.

Later in the night, I step outside and see that Itachi's car is still in the driveway. So, naturally, I decide to pop over. I don't bother knocking. I just walk right in because I'm a nosy piece of shit.

Immediately, I see Kisame in the hallway. He's smoking a cigarette, looking like he would rather be anywhere else.

I can still hear arguing coming from the kitchen, it's just not as loud.

"Why do you _always_ have to challenge me?" I hear Itachi. His voice is shaking. "Could you maybe realize that I have your best interests in mind?"

"Everyone keeps saying that," Sasuke responds. "You, Naruto, Kakashi…"

"Because it's true!" Itachi snaps.

I peer into the room and Kisame hovers behind me, looking over my shoulder at the two brothers. So much for no emotions. Itachi looks like he's getting worked up. It's kind of weird to see. I got used to the idea of him being stone-cold like Kisame and Sasuke both seem to think. He doesn't look too stone-cold to me.

Itachi turns away from Sasuke and leans against the counter. After a brief moment, he raises a hand to cover his face. As soon as it happens, Kisame shoves me into the wall and moves into the room.

"Itachi," he says his fiancé's name. "Look at me."

"No," Itachi responds evenly. Kisame puts a hand on his shoulder, only to have it shaken off a split second later. "Don't," Itachi murmurs.

I glance at Sasuke, who looks like he's at a loss. "Are you crying?" he asks flatly.

"No!" Itachi exclaims sharply, yet he doesn't turn around and prove his brother wrong. He's not all that different from Sasuke. Perhaps, when it comes to personality, they're just too similar.

"Yes, you are!" Sasuke accuses. He looks surprised, like he never thought his brother capable of such genuine emotion. "But why…?" he asks.

Itachi lets out a sharp sigh, turning around. "For you, idiot!" Like Sasuke, he looks pretty when he cries.

"Why?" Sasuke asks again. "You care?"

"Of _course_ I care!" Itachi closes his eyes briefly, allowing a few more tears to slide down his cheeks. "We've lost both Mother and Father," he says quietly. "Do we want to lose each other as well?"

"No…" Sasuke relents in a murmur. The admittance comes out sour, like he doesn't want to agree with anything that comes out of his brother's mouth.

Itachi briskly swipes at his cheeks and says, "Then we are both going to have to try harder."

"Sorry," Sasuke mutters.

"So am I," Itachi says.

It's tense. I don't know why. Maybe it's the tears. Maybe it's everything else.

Kisame and Itachi don't linger for much longer. Itachi hugs his brother, keeping him close for many long minutes. When they break apart, Kisame walks him out.

"That was weird," Sasuke mutters to me when they're gone. "Itachi hasn't hugged me since I learned how to walk."

"I guess that shows how much he cares," I offer.

"Hn…" Sasuke grunts noncommittally. I ask him if he's okay, but he just nods and sniffles lightly. I don't know if he's holding back his own tears, or what. "For fuck's sake," he whispers, letting out a shaky breath.

I finally take a step into the room and move towards him. I pause a few feet away, leaning against the counter.

"Can you stay over tonight?" he asks in a murmur.

"Yeah, of course," I say softly.

He gives me a lazy nod and then, without another word, the two of us retreat upstairs. He turns into the bathroom and I continue into his bedroom, taking my khakis and polo off so I'm in just my shorts. I crawl into his bed and lie down. When he returns, he's as dressed down as I am. He kills the lights and joins me in bed, sinking into me. I can feel his breath on my face. It smells like spearmint. He kisses my lips briefly and says, "Thanks for staying."

"Yeah, always," I tell him.

* * *

When morning comes, I am the first to wake up and I remember I have to work. I stare at Sasuke, who is sleeping next to me. He looks so peaceful when he's asleep. Ha. I don't want to wake him. I try to climb over him, but he opens his eyes almost immediately. "Were you going to leave without even telling me?" he asks.

"No…" I say slowly before admitting, "I didn't want to wake you."

"It's fine," he says carelessly. "I can get back to sleep no problem."

We both get out of bed, he walks me to the door and we part ways with nothing else. I move into my house and shower quickly, brushing my teeth and putting on my khakis and polo. In the kitchen, I fill a bottle of water and then I leave.

It'd humid outside. Really humid. I hate this kind of weather. You get sweaty by simply standing around outside. I like the heat, but I'd take snow over this any day. Sadly, it doesn't really snow here. It doesn't get cold at all. There's kind of an eternal summer in this part of the world.

It doesn't take me long to arrive at work. When I get here, I can feel my pits sweating like fuckin' crazy. Nasty. I go to the break room and try to air myself out before starting my shift.

Work is dull, but I need as many shifts as I can get. My rent isn't particularly expensive, but on top of that I also need to wash my clothes, buy food and other necessities. The cost of living is ridiculously expensive and it hurts my brain when I think about it.

I like when it's busy. The time tends to go faster when we're moving nonstop. The time drags on slow when no one is around. Lucky for me, I work at a pretty popular fast food joint. People love their greasy, shitty food.

"Hot out?" my co-worker asks, chuckling as I try to cool down. Her name is Tenten. Right now, she's fanning herself with a piece of folded paper, looking about as sweaty as I am.

"Yeah, fuck!" I groan. "The walk from my house is only about ten minutes, but I'm ready to keel over and die."

"I think it's a heat wave," she says. "It's not typically this hot around here. It sucks worse for us because we've got all the grills on in here."

I grimace. By the looks of things, this is going to be a long and painful shift. I just hope it's busy.

* * *

After a painful seven hours, I'm on my way home. I turn on the AC and then go straight to the bathroom to take a long, cold shower. My dick shrivels up like a raisin, but I don't care. When I get out, I put on a pair of basketball shorts and a tank. There's no way in hell I'm wearing pants in this heat.

After that, I hop next door. I half expect Sasuke to have his AC blasting, but no. It's really muggy inside. "It's hotter than July in here!" I shout, grabbing my shirt and trying to air myself out yet again.

"AirCon is broke," he says, appearing from the living room and leaning against the wall with crossed arms. "I need a guy to come in to fix it, but I'm too lazy to make the call." He's wearing a t-shirt and pyjama pants. PANTS. I dunno how he isn't suffering from heat stroke..

"Don't renew your lease for this shit-hole," I tell him. "Just move back in with your brother."

He wrinkles his nose. "Me and Itachi have started doing family therapy," he says offhandedly. The confession is relieving. "First session was this afternoon."

"That's good," I tell him. "How is it going?"

He shrugs. "It's weird… It's weird talking to him about my feelings. It was so fucking weird seeing him cry. I felt so uncomfortable. I think Kisame found it weird, too."

"I don't understand you guys," I say. "How can you just… stifle yourself like that and continue to stay sane?"

Sasuke smiles faintly. "Some would argue that we're not entirely sane."

"Dude," I start, "you want to dispose of your drug stuff now? I still have it sitting at my place."

He shrugs carelessly. "Later," he says.

"It's okay if you're not ready," I tell him. "Just say it."

"Fine," he mutters. "I'm not ready yet."

I only nod. I wish he would be. The sooner he's ready to dump that crap, the sooner he'll be ready to take the next step.

"Does it frustrate you?" he asks suddenly.

"What?" I pry.

"Well… me," he says.

"No," I tell him, though it's a slight fib. He frustrates me, but I guess it's not exactly fair of me to get up-in-arms about it. So, in a way, I am mostly just frustrating myself.

He relents and nods for me to follow him upstairs. "I have a fan in my bedroom."

Once we're upstairs, he takes off his shirt and pants. He's left in a pair of tight, short boxer briefs. "It's really warm," he murmurs.

"Yeah," I agree, tossing my shirt to the floor. We sit on his bed and let the fan blow in our faces.

I glance at him. His eyes are closed and he looks content.

"I can feel you staring at me," he says.

"Just admiring," I coo at him. He opens his eyes and smirks at me, leaning forward and pecking me on the lips. "That all I get?" I joke.

He stares at me with eyes half-lidded before leaning forward again. We kiss sloppily and soon enough we're both hot and horny.

He moves away, shrugging out of his underwear and grabbing the lube. He hands it to me and then lies down on his stomach with his face in front of the fan. I open the cap and wet my fingers before grabbing Sasuke's ass and slowly sliding two in at once.

He arches his back, lifting his hips and spreading his legs apart. "Mm…"

I could do this all fucking day. He's literally physical perfection and for me to be allowed this close to a guy like Sasuke… Well, I don't take it for granted, that's for sure.

I gingerly remove my fingers, staring down at his backside. I position myself, draping myself on top of him and we fuck slowly with the fan cooling us off.

It's nice. It's always nice – the way it should be. I never want to see him return to where he was when I first stepped into his life. I don't want to see him hustling or injecting shit that could easily kill him. I want him to be safe and happy because he fucking deserves to be. He's had a rough go, but I'll do everything I can do keep satisfying him – whether it's in the bedroom or in other aspects of life.

I finish first, cumming with a grunt. I'm a little sweaty, even with the fan blowing wind in my face. With a shuddery breath, I pull out before flipping him onto his back. I touch him, watching his eyes slip shut and his lips part before going down on him. He lets out moans and mewls. Cute sounds. Music to my ears.

His sperm feels hot and thick on my tongue, but I don't mind the taste one bit. I swallow gratefully and sit up, staring down at him. He opens his eyes, smiling slightly. I flop down next to him and we lie side by side.

"I've never been with a guy like you," he murmurs. "I've never been with a guy who actually managed to turn me on. You're the first." For some reason, it both pleases and saddens me.

"Well, it's both an honor and a privilege," I tell him, winking.

"Ah, it's coming out…" Sasuke murmurs suddenly before standing up and running across the hallway.

I snicker at that. When he returns from the bathroom, we sit in front of the fan talking as the cool air dries out sweaty, sex-soaked skin.

"How come you never invite me to your place?" he wonders. "You always come to mine, but I've never even stepped foot in yours."

"My place is ugly," I admit. "I don't have nice things."

"Do I honestly seem like I care about that?" he asks.

"No," I relent.

"Next time, we'll go to your house," he decides.

"All right," I agree.

* * *

Karin's birthday is approaching.

Yesterday, I went to the mall with Sakura to shop for a last minute present. I've been going crazy trying to figure out what to get Karin. I knew Sakura would be the best person to ask. I ended up buying her a tea set.

Soon enough, the day of Karin's party comes and Sasuke gets difficult. I expected as much. "Come on," I urge him.

"No," he says. "I didn't buy her anything. I forgot."

I roll my eyes at that. "We can stop at the corner store. Buy her a bottle of wine and a card. She'll be happy."

He snorts. "Yeah, whatever…"

"She's my cousin, you know," I decide to tell him.

"What?" he asks flatly.

"She's my cousin," I reiterate. "We're related. Distantly, but related nonetheless."

"Oh, wow," he murmurs.

"That's what I said," I admit with a chuckle. "Anyway, she wants you to come. I want you to come. I'm sure everyone else does, too."

"Fine," he relents softly.

So, we head to the store. Sasuke picks out a simple card and a bottle of wine. He signs the card with his name and that's that. No heartfelt message – just his name under the printed words that read HAPPY BIRTHDAY.

When 6PM approaches, me and Sasuke make our way across town to the familiar apartment building. When we reach the right door, we knock and Karin lets us in with a grin.

"Naruto," she greets. "And… the elusive Sasuke Uchiha. Long time, no see."

"Hey," he nods to her.

"Suigetsu and Jugo are inside," she adds, jabbing a thumb behind her.

"Great," he mutters, handing her the gift. "Here."

She smiles, probably at how rigid he's acting. "Thanks," she says. "Make yourself at home."

He nods once more, walking past her.

"I think he's nervous," I tell her.

"That's fine," she waves a dismissive hand.

"Here," I say, holding up my gift to her.

"Thank you," she says with another smile. I follow her inside, where she proceeds to introduce me to a plethora of strangers. I think Sasuke already knows most of them from high school days.

Suigetsu ends up being a slim, pale-haired guy with weird eyes and sharp teeth. He's the first to move forward and give Sasuke a hug, complete with multiple slaps on the back. Jugo, on the other hand, is quite large and broad. He has orange hair and strong features. He simply holds up his hand. I guess these are Sasuke's old friends. It's kind of hard to picture him having fun with people. Fun seems to be something he runs away from.

"So," Suigetsu starts, "what've you been up to? I saw you on the news a while back."

How tactless!

"Yeah," Sasuke answers flatly. "That is basically what has been going on."

"Shitty, dude," Suigetsu offers.

I decide to leave them to it and wander off with Karin, letting her get me a drink. She makes it stiff and I down it with ease.

It looks like everyone is laughing, talking and having a good time… except for Sasuke. By now he's escaped the clutches of his old friends and relocated by the window. He's standing alone, simply staring outside.

"What is it?" I ask, sidling up next to him.

"I feel claustrophobic," he says weakly.

"Do you want to leave?" I offer.

"I don't want to make you leave with me," he murmurs. "You don't need to coddle me. Go have fun."

Somewhat begrudgingly, I relent and wander off.

* * *

A little past midnight, I decide to head out. After exchanging goodbyes, I start looking for Sasuke. I find him standing on the little balcony, staring down at the scenery below.

"Hey," I greet him.

"Hey," he echoes. "I've been waiting for you, but I felt bad about it because I just told you not to worry."

"Were you waiting long?"

"A bit," he admits. "I don't really like crowds."

"Did you spend any time with your friends?" I ask.

He shrugs his shoulders lightly. "A bit," he says again. "I just felt out of place and uncomfortable. I knew they were thinking things about me… I mean, I've been on the news quite a few times. It's hard to ignore."

"Yeah," I say quietly. I toss an arm around him and steer him through the house and out the door. We leave the apartment building and begin walking. It's dark, but the moon is high. "Hey," I murmur. "Did you ever used to hook up with those guys in there?"

"Suigetsu and Jugo?" he questions and I nod my head. He smiles faintly. "I used to suck their dicks, but that's it," he confesses with a snort. "No fucking. They're both straight, but they said it was fine because I looked _girly_ enough."

"Oh," I say dryly. "That's pretty dickish."

"Jugo smokes a lot of weed," Sasuke continues, not bothering to respond to my comment. "It calms him down. He has major anger problems. I remember that I'd sometimes be able to calm him down. He once beat the shit out of Suigetsu, though. It took him forever to forgive himself for that, though it seems like they've worked through it since they're still friends."

"Jeez," I mumble. "I bet he could hit hard. He's big."

"In more ways than one," Sasuke says nonchalantly. Then he halts, putting a hand over his mouth as if he just realized what he said. He lets out a nervous laugh and then apologizes.

"It's okay," I chuckle.

Sasuke shakes his head at himself, sighing. "I'll try not to talk about other guys."

"It's okay if you do," I tell him. "I mean… I know I'm not the only guy you've been with and I'll try not to get jealous, especially if it's something you feel like you need to talk about."

I don't want him keeping secrets. We've come this far already.

"Fair enough," he relents.

We don't say much more after that. We walk home and part ways with tired goodbyes.


	5. Together they make music

**Naruto © Masashi Kishimoto**

**One more chapter after this~**

**Sorry it took so long! I've been a bit busy lately (trying to find a job since I just graduated) and keep forgetting to update my fics. I've been writing lots though c: **

* * *

The following few days are full of work, work, work and more work. Fortunately, long shifts mean more money. I'd like to take Sasuke somewhere nice, though I doubt he'd let me. He's still a bit of a recluse, having no interest in leaving the comfort and confines of his house.

After work, I go home and shower off in an attempt to rid myself of the greasy smell. After I'm daisy fresh, I put on a pair of basketball shorts and a tank top before going next door. I let myself in and go straight upstairs. "Sasuke?" I call.

"In here!" he calls back.

I follow his voice into the bathroom, opening the door slowly and somewhat cautiously. I half expect him to start shouting for me to go away, but he doesn't.

"Hey," I greet.

"Hey," he echoes. He's sitting in the bath. His hair is pinned up out of his face and his cheeks are flushed from the hot, steaming water.

"It smells nice," I note. "Kinda like lavender."

"Bath salt," he says.

"Mm," I say, moving in and sitting on the edge of the bath tub. "The water looks fucking hot," I point out, wondering how he can stand it.

"I like it," he says. "It's burns. It kind of hurts, but I like it."

I smile faintly. "That sounds fucked up, dude."

"Call me fucked up, then," he responds easily.

I continue sitting with him until the water begins to cool and then he stands up. "Let's go to your house," he decides. "I want to see where you sleep."

I wrinkle my nose but I relent. I did promise him, after all.

He grabs a towel and dries off before throwing a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. We go downstairs before moving next door to my house. Upon entry, I shrug unceremoniously and say, "Here it is. Not much but it's home."

Sasuke smiles faintly before walking right in. He glances around, exploring the house. I follow him through each room, gaging his reactions.

When we're upstairs, he speaks. "I like it," he says finally. "It's boyish and messy, but it definitely suits you."

"Well, thanks."

"Is this where you spend most of your time?" he asks me, glancing around my room.

"Yeah," I admit. "It's sloppy and shit… plus I don't have a bed frame, but it's still comfortable."

"Let's christen your room," he propositions before reaching for the edge of his shirt and pulling it off.

"I did that the first night I moved in," I snort.

He chuckles. "Well, it's a lot less pathetic when you do it with another person." He shrugs out of the rest of the clothes he put on mere minutes ago before adding, "Get on with it, then."

I don't fucking hesitate. When we're both bare, I stand in front of him and ask, "Hey… do you want me?"

"Yes," he says. "Yes, I want you. I like you… You're… nice and handsome and you treat me well. I like spending time with you. When we're together I feel a little calmer."

And hearing him say it is somehow reassuring. Someone wants me. Someone wants me for me.

"I want you, too."

With a smile, I move forward and wrap my arms around him, touching our lips together. When we part, I flop onto the bed, bringing him with me.

* * *

Next time I see Sakura at the laundromat, she once again sits with me as my clothes wash.

"How do you feel?" she asks.

"I feel… blessed," I admit with a laugh.

"Blessed?" she questions.

"Yeah," I murmur. "I mean, Sasuke _wants_ me. Someone sincerely wants me. It's a weird feeling. I'm exceptionally average. I'm not really used to feeling wanted, but I like it."

She smiles. "I'm happy for you."

It's all true. It's a strange and foreign idea, especially for an orphan. It feels fucking good to settle down with someone.

* * *

Days later, it's late when I'm making my way home from work. When I reach my street, something unsettling catches my eye. There's a vehicle parked in front of Sasuke's house and there are some sketchy looking dudes on his front porch. He's talking to them. Nothing seems out of place. Sasuke doesn't seem afraid, but his expression changes as soon as he spots me. Now he looks worried.

Is he buying drugs? Or is he in some sort of trouble? Probably the latter.

I might be stupid, but I have enough street smarts to realize this is a delicate situation either way. I mind my own business and go straight home. Still, I don't like it. I don't like it one bit. I want to call the cops… but would they help? Sasuke already insisted that his reputation is shit. Would the cops hurry to an address that is home to a notorious prostitute or would they just take their sweet time? I bite the inside of my cheek, hesitating before dialling the number for non-emergency dispatch. No sirens. I tell them there are some hard looking guys outside.

I stand near the window and wait. There's no shouting coming from next door, so I'll take that as a good sign. What feels like nearly an hour later, a cop car finally pulls up, not giving the men in Sasuke's driveway enough time to scatter. Words are exchange, but there's no violence. The men don't leave with the cops. I guess I shouldn't be surprised. It's not like there was any proof they were doing anything illegal... though, they probably were.

I take a seat on my sofa, wringing my hands together on my lap for a few minutes before letting myself take another look. The streets are empty by now. Tentatively, I step outside and go next door.

"Sasuke?" I call.

Nothing.

I move deeper into the house until I find him in the living room. He's sitting on a recliner with his head in his hands. When he hears me, he looks up.

"Hey," he whispers hoarsely, sniffling. His sleeve is rolled up, but he is quick to roll is back down – though not before I see the red mark in the crook of his elbow.

He's in one piece, but something is off. "Sasuke," I croak. "Are you high right now?"

"Sorry," he murmurs hazily, giving me the answer without actually saying it.

I let out a sigh and try to refrain from yelling or crying. "It's okay," I say as gently as I can. "Come on," I offer him a hand and pull him to his feet. We move upstairs and I draw him a bath with some of that lavender bath salt he seems to like.

He undresses slowly and his movements are groggy. He lets out tired moans, sitting on the edge of the tub.

"Did they do this to you?" I ask, trying not to sound angry. There are blooming bruises on his skin. They stand out against his pale complexion.

They beat him.

They didn't just drug him, they beat him.

It must've all happened before I arrived home. If I heard it happening, I wouldn't have been able to stop myself from making an even worse scene.

"I don't want to talk about it," he says in a pained whisper.

"Well, I'm making you!" I growl, raising my voice. He closes his eyes, shuddering at the unhidden anger in my tone. Quieter, I plead, "Just tell me who did this… and why…"

"I made Gato a lot of money," he says softly. "I guess they miss that. If I'm sober, he's losing out. So… they are trying their best to keep me hooked. They said they'd give me a taste for free today as a reminder of what I'm missing out on. I said no, but they didn't listen. They never do."

"Fucking hell," I mutter.

When the bath is full, he sits inside and draws his knees to his chest modestly. "I'm sorry," he apologizes again.

"Don't be," I mumble. "It wasn't your fault."

"All of it's my fault," he argues. "I'm the junky. I got myself into something I can't seem to get myself out of. These guys are relentless."

I want to argue with him, but I suppose there is truth to his statement. So, instead, I simply say, "Move back in with your brother… I mean, do you really want to go down the road of drugs and addiction again? You were sober…"

He rests his chin on his knees. "Is it bad that I don't care about myself? For my own sake, I can't find it in me to work towards something better… but for your sake, I want to. You care about me and I don't want to disappoint you."

"Well," I start quietly, "I think that's okay as long as you at least try to start loving yourself and respecting yourself in the meantime… y'know? For now, however, whatever it takes will work. I mean, this is a matter of life and death in the most extreme sense of things. Right?"

"Right," he confirms softly.

"So," I add with finality, "it's okay if you do it for someone else at this point, just as long as you're doing it."

He raises his head and forces a weary smile. "All right. I'll start packing my things when I sleep this off."

"And I'll help," I offer.

Maybe there's a part of me that's jealous. Jealous of the drugs and the hold they have on him… but I guess that's a fucked up way to think. I wouldn't want him to depend on me the way he depends on heroin. I'd just be killing him.

There's still so much about Sasuke I don't know and he's my… Wait, what is he? We never really spoke about labels, but I guess it doesn't matter as long as I want him and he wants me.

"Sasuke, are you sick?" I ask out of the blue. "I mean… like, mentally?"

I've wondered about it before, but he always stayed quiet.

He lets out a weary laugh. "I was waiting for you to ask me that question," he admits. "Episodic apathy," he murmurs. "I have depersonalization disorder. It's dissociative, so there are periods where I literally don't feel a damn thing emotionally. I just joke around and say it's existential nihilism, but it isn't. Half the time I'm scared I'll lose my fucking mind. I'm probably depressed because of it, but I don't want to confirm it by having to see a doctor."

"Oh," I whisper. None of that surprises me. In fact, I almost understand it. "I have depression," I decide to confess. "I used to have that same attitude… but it got better when I got pills. Yeah, I kind of hate to credit my medication for my attitude shift, but I guess it's true. They make me feel… normal. That's all they do. I'm not addicted and they don't make me insane. They just make me feel the way I'm supposed to feel."

"We're very different people," is all he responds with. "There are no pills for depersonalization. There are just pills that can help elevate symptoms. Nonetheless, I didn't want them. So, my doctor wanted to talk. I didn't want that, either. He wanted to talk about things I didn't want to even think about. I mean, there's often a reason for depersonalization. Something triggers it, you see. Well, I already know the answer. I didn't need a doctor to tell me."

"Why, then?" I pry.

"Getting raped," he says bluntly with a bitter, grim laugh.

I wince at that. "Right," I whisper. "I'm sorry."

He just shrugs. "I don't act like I'm sensitive, but sometimes I am… Just when I'm not busy feeling nothing. It's like one or the other."

"Do you want to talk about it?" I offer.

He only shrugs. "Not much to talk about. I was young and impressionable. I dated a really shitty guy who was older than me took advantage of it… Sometimes I don't know where my downward spiral started. Maybe it was with that… or maybe it was with the death of my parents. Maybe it was before all of that. Maybe I just felt too neglected. I guess it doesn't matter now. It's of the past, though I should probably try to deal with it if it's the root of my drug problem."

I frown at that. "I'm really sorry… You didn't deserve any of that –"

He holds up a hand, cutting me off. "Spare me the lecture about how it wasn't my fault. I know that already."

I close my mouth, unsure where to go from here. Clearly, he isn't ready for help. So, there's not much else I can say or do.

"Have you ever felt depersonalized… or dissociated?" he asks me. "Like you're detached and it's kind of like you're experiencing something outside your current realm of existence? You're not in your own body? You're not yourself? You look at yourself and you don't feel like you're seeing you? It's like you're watching a movie and you're the star."

I nod my head. "When I was sixteen I had sex with this really violent guy. I mean, it was consensual… in the start, I guess. He got really rough really fast and I got scared. It felt like it lasted forever and I felt like I stepped away from myself… like I was watching some guy have at my ass instead of actually experiencing it." I grimace, shaking my head in disgust. "Anyway, that's the last time I got fucked."

Sasuke nods his head slowly. "It's an shitty feeling, isn't it?"

"Yeah," I agree in a murmur.

I want to know everything about Sasuke, even the bad things like this. Talking about himself seems to be something he doesn't like to do.

"Tell me something else about yourself," I proposition. "Something I couldn't have guessed."

He presses his lips together in thought before admitting, "I can play the violin."

"Wow, for real?" I ask. "That's really impressive."

"Me and Itachi were both classically trained. I chose violin because he played piano and I didn't want to be playing the same instrument as him. My parents would host those high-society parties and we'd play music while people socialized. At the time, I hated it… but now I almost miss it. Then again, maybe I just miss my parents. I took advantage of them and those stupid parties, thinking they'd always be around."

"I'm sorry," I offer.

He only shrugs. "If you want to know things, don't be afraid to ask. I'll talk."

"Sometimes you seem like you don't want to talk."

He tilts his head to the side. "Sometimes I don't… but I still should, right? Besides, I don't mind talking to you. It's gotten easier."

* * *

I work my first late shift and it fucking sucks. The joint is open 24 hours and I've succeeded in hiding from night shifts until this week.

I've been guzzling energy drinks. It tastes terrible, like stale, carbonated vomit… but I don't complain. After all, it's keeping me awake. Well, at least a little bit. I'm starting to crash again.

I'm the only one here, which makes things even worse. It's slow and boring. I shouldn't be here alone, but everyone's shifts got all fucked up – hence why I'm working the crappiest hours ever.

It's currently 4AM. I really want to sleep. I want to crawl into my bed (or Sasuke's) and just fucking sleep. I'm so tired I want to cry.

Speaking of Sasuke – his lease is coming to an end. I hope he leaves. He should be living with someone who cares about him… someone who can watch him. His brother cares about him. His brother can keep an eye on him.

It's honestly all I can think about lately. It's stressing me out in a big way because I don't want him to die.

* * *

The streets are quiet as I make my way back. I take that as a good sign, because the crime rate around here is sky high. I go straight home, since it's too late for visits. It's 6AM. So, maybe I should say it's too early for visits. I'm about ready to drop, but I don't want to let myself sleep the day away. When I get home, I set an alarm on my cellphone.

11AM. That's when I will wake up. Five hours of sleep won't do me much good, but at least it's something.

I lazily brush my teeth and wash my face. I definitely smell like shit, but I'll shower later. I strip down on my way to my bedroom and drop onto my mattress, falling asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow.

* * *

Sasuke listens to my advice and when his lease finishes, he doesn't renew it. He moves back in with his brother. He's farther away now, but I'm relieved to know he's safer there than he is here. This part of town is dangerous and it wasn't doing him any good by living here. It was probably easier for the drug dealers to get at him.

At the end of the week, Sasuke asks for me and Itachi comes to pick me up. I throw my overnight bag in the trunk and get in the passenger's seat of his car. We drive to the opposite side of town and through a gated community. As soon as we pass, I feel out of place. I feel like I'm in the exact place where I don't belong.

The people here have money and status and they probably have the attitude that goes along with it. They probably think I'm some homeless bum. I know I look like one.

"Shit," I deadpan as we park in front of a large, dark manor. "This is a pretty fancy place."

"Yes," Itachi agrees. "It's not very homey, but it is indeed home."

We walk inside, I see Sasuke descending a spiralling staircase. The inside is just as stellar as the outside with rich, red carpets, marble floors and patterned wallpapers. I look up and see a large chandelier hanging above my head.

"It's big," I finally say.

Itachi gives me a flat smile in response. It's probably nothing new and exciting to him.

* * *

I spend the day with Sasuke after he shows me around. The house is too large, especially considering that there is only three people living in it. There are probably a lot of empty, unused bedrooms.

Once Sasuke finishes giving me the grand tour, we pause in the living room. There's a large painting hanging above the fireplace of Itachi and Sasuke with their parents. The area is lavish, even nicer than the rooms at his old house, but that is to be expected. You can't really compare a crack shack to a manor, no matter what kind of renovations Sasuke did.

"Hey, can I draw you?" I proposition out of the blue, staring at the painting. I haven't drawn in a long, long time... but suddenly I want to.

"Sure, but why?" Sasuke asks, eying me.

"I want to draw something beautiful," I say.

"Oh, _wow_," he drones. "Sweet talk me right into the bedroom, Mister."

I smile at him. "I mean it. I want to draw you."

"All right," he relents, turning away.

I follow him out of the room and the two of us move upstairs. As expected, his bedroom is just as lavish as the living room. Everything is a navy blue color and it's all classically simple. There is a bed in the far left with a nightstand. There is a bureau in the far right and a desk on the opposite side. In between, a closet.

Sasuke shuts the door when we're both inside and reaches for the button on his shirt. "Should I get undressed?" he asks.

"Yeah," I say. "I want to draw you naked."

He smiles lewdly. "Of course you do."

I watch him undress. I pop a boner almost immediately, but I ignore it. I don't want to sleep with him. At least, not _now_. I want to draw him first.

He drops his clothes onto a careless pile on the hardwood floor before asking, "Where do you want me?"

"Bed," I say.

He lies down, staring at me as I dig through my bag for my drawing supplies. When I find them, I make my way over and sit down near the bottom of the mattress.

He pushes his foot against my groin. "You're hard," he points out.

"Yeah," is all I say.

"Want me to take care of it?"

"No, it's okay," I tell him. "I want to draw you first."

He smiles, relenting and lying back down. He stretches and I watch as his stomach tightens. He looks smooth and soft. It makes me want to lick him.

He rolls onto his side to face me. "How should I pose?"

"Like that," I say. "You look nice. Sexy. Kind of like you just woke up or you just got fucked."

"Romance me with words," he croons.

I just grin at him before finally opening my sketchbook. I flip to a new page and grab a pencil, touching it to the paper thoughtfully.

"It turns me on when you stare at me like that," he confesses out of the blue. "It's like you're analyzing my body."

"In a way, I am," I chuckle. "I haven't drawn in a long time. I want this to be perfect. I want to do you justice."

"I'm sure you will," he says.

He hasn't seen any of my drawings or paintings before. I'm a little anxious to show him.

So, I touch pencil to paper and draw the first line. Then the second. Then the third. Each stroke comes with ease, like I've done it a thousand times before. I guess drawing is something you don't really forget – just like riding a bike.

By the time I'm finished, we both have erections.

"Done?" Sasuke asks expectantly.

"Er, yeah," I say with hesitance. For some reason, I feel suddenly shy.

"Well, let's see, then." He sits up and crawls towards me. I hold up my sketchbook, hoping he'll think it's at least decent. He takes it from me and stares down. "Oh, wow," he says in awe. "This is really beautiful, Naruto. You definitely have talent."

"Well, it helps when the subject is beautiful," I tell him with a wink.

"Smooth. I'll display it."

"Aw, you don't have to do that," I insist.

"Why not?" he asks. "It's nice. I should display it. How about we put it above the fireplace downstairs?" He chuckles and says, "No, I'm only joking. I doubt everyone wants to see a nude portrait of me with an erection. I'll put it on my wall, though."

I grin at him. "All right. You should let me paint you next time."

"Deal. I'll even frame it."

He sets the sketchbook aside after that and reaches for the button on my jeans. I lean back, perching myself up on my elbows so I can watch him. I know there's a saying that says no one looks good with a dick in their mouth… but I swear, Sasuke does. He always looks damn good.

* * *

Dinner is quiet, but it isn't tense. I spend the night in Sasuke's room. We fool around a bit more and then he falls asleep, half-dressed. I hold him, playing the part of the big spoon and listening to his even breaths until –

_Crash. _

I bolt upright, causing Sasuke to stir. I hear footsteps outside the room and a split second later, the door swings open.

"Hurry!" Itachi shouts frantically with wide, demanding eyes.

Did someone break in?

I grab Sasuke and we both follow him down the hallway and down the stairs. Suddenly, I'm scared. I don't get scared often, but I feel like I'm about to puke up a lung. My heart is beating so damn fast I can hardly breathe.

We hesitantly turn into the living room and the first thing I spot is the broken window. Then something small sitting on the floor.

_Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick..._

A split second later –

"Shit, shit, shit!" Kisame is shouting. "It's a bomb! It's a fucking bomb!" He picks up the device and points to the door. "Run the other way!" he calls, pointing to the front door. With that, he's gone through the back.

Great. We're gonna have to leave the house and all I'm wearing are my boxer shorts. At least Sasuke has a t-shirt on apart from his underwear.

"No, wait!" Itachi pleads. He tries to follow his fiancé, but I grab him by the arm and force him to come the other way with me and Sasuke. We leave the house and run bare-footed down the street as far and fast as we can as Kisame runs in the other direction.

Then we hear it… an explosion. It's followed by the sound of… water splashing?

By now, other people are exiting their homes, probably having heard the sound of the bomb going off. Itachi doesn't seem to notice. He keeps staring in the direction of their home – still perfectly intact.

My heart is still going nuts. It's beating so hard and fast it feels like it's going to fall out of my ass. I take a deep breath and then let it out slowly.

Soon enough, we hear sirens. Someone called the cops. Good.

Fuck, I feel like I'm going to hurl. Everything is happening so damn fast.

Eventually, Kisame appears from down the street and he still has all his limbs. Thank fuck. Itachi runs to him, perching himself on his toes and throwing his arms around him.

"He's okay…" Sasuke says with a sigh. "What a relief…"

I force a smile, even though all I want to do is fall asleep for twelve hours straight. I take Sasuke's hand and we walk towards Kisame and Itachi.

"Where'd you throw it?" I ask when we're close enough.

"Lake," Kisame answers with a sigh. "I didn't know what else to do with it." He starts chortling, like it's a big joke. "Fuck, I never ran so fast in my life. You all looked like you were ready to shit your pants!"

Pff. Well, I'm glad _someone_ finds it humorous.

* * *

Soon enough the cops show up. They ask what feels like a million questions and take us to grab some things from the house. Then we drive to a hotel while they search the premise.

The hotel room has two twin beds. It isn't spacious, but it's nice and it looks clean. Itachi wants us to stay together.

Itachi runs his palms down his face and Sasuke stands still and silent, but I feel like I can read his mind. He's placing the blame on himself.

"Sasuke –" Itachi says his name.

"I'm sorry," Sasuke responds mechanically.

Itachi lets out a sharp sigh. "This is what happens when you get dangerous people angry."

"I know…"

"But _how_ the hell did this happen?" Itachi hisses, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall. "This is why we live in a _gated_ community! Things like this should _not_ happen!"

"But it's always possible," Kisame reasons, lying on one of the beds. "Security can only be so tight. I'm sure there are ways for people to get past it. Some people specialize in shit like this."

Itachi looks beyond angry. He looks like he could tear someone's head off with the look he's wearing. Nonetheless, he tries to brush it off by saying, "Let's discuss this tomorrow. It's late and, quite frankly, I'm tired."

End of discussion. He kills the lights and lies down with Kisame. Without further hesitance, I do the same with Sasuke.

* * *

The following day, we're allowed back. The culprit wasn't found, though we all know who it was. Unfortunately, there's no proof and without proof, there's only so much the cops can do. Sasuke has told me time and time again how little help they've been to him in the past. They know about Gato, but it's almost like they don't want to bother. Maybe they just don't care about what happens in the bad side of town. Or maybe Gato is just too fucking sly. It's all so typical I feel like I'm living in some crime drama where the bad guy just keeps winning.

Itachi doesn't say it, but it's obvious he's scared. He's cautious, like he expects another bomb to fly through the window at any second. It's tense and Sasuke is acting just as paranoid.

Kisame repairs the window and Itachi doesn't leave his side for the entire day.

"What a handy guy," I say lightly. "From household repairs to disposing of bombs… He seems experienced."

"Kisame used to work for some government organization," Sasuke explains quietly, in a voice only I can hear. "I don't know what he did because it's a secret, but he probably killed people."

"That wouldn't surprise me," I admit with a wary laugh. Kisame is a pretty scary dude and I definitely wouldn't want to get on his bad side. He's probably as dangerous as the guys who are after Sasuke's ass.

After Kisame fixes the window, Itachi follows him into the kitchen. In turn, me and Sasuke follow Itachi.

"You're hovering too much," Kisame points out. He looks annoyed at his fiancé.

Itachi is visibly offended. "I'm fucking _scared_!" he shouts angrily. "You're the only person I feel safe around!"

Kisame softens and his features relax. "Fuck it," he mutters, almost like he's saying it to himself. "The pier, right?" he asks, looking at Sasuke. "That's where Gato usually hangs around?"

"Yes..." Sasuke responds, almost like he isn't sure why Kisame is asking.

"Don't..." Itachi tries, but Kisame just shakes him off. Without saying another word, he stomps out of the house and slams the door behind him.

"Where'd he go?" I ask stupidly, but Itachi doesn't answer. He simply frowns.

* * *

Late in the night, Kisame returns. Everything seems fine until he takes off his jacket. There are blood splatters on his shirt and all I can do is stare. Part of me is wondering if this is something normal for them, but another part of me realizes that it's not.

By now, Sasuke is asleep. He sleeps a lot these days and he sleeps early. I'm almost thankful for it.

"What did you do?" Itachi whispers breathlessly. His lips are parted as he stares at his fiancé with wide, demanding eyes.

"Took care of it," Kisame explains vaguely.

"Of _what_?" Itachi spits.

"You _know_ what," he responds. "I had a gun in my car. I went to the pier where we met with them to pay off Sasuke's debt. It was a long shot, but they were there. So, I used the gun. I did what the cops wouldn't have done and shot everyone who was loitering there."

Well, that escalated quickly. Too quickly.

I leave the room, not bothering to excuse myself. I run upstairs and into Sasuke's room, crawling into bed with him like a scared child. I _am_ scared. I'm scared shitless. The people in this house are all fucking crazy and none of this even feels real.

Maybe it isn't real. Maybe I'll wake up and I'll realize it was all just some insane dream.

Ha, yeah right.

I just lie here with wide-eyes for what feels like hours. I don't move. I can barely bring myself to breathe too loudly. My hands are curled against my neck and I can feel my pulse. My heart is going too fast for me to relax and sleep.

Time passes and eventually the arguing stops. I hear loud footsteps stomp passed the closed door. It's probably Kisame. Itachi doesn't even weigh enough to make that loud of a sound.

I try to sleep, but I can't. I feel wired and my mind feels busy.

It's even later in the night now and, since I can't sleep, I get out of bed and I move down the hallway until I see a room with a light on. I slip inside and see that it's a reading room. In the far corner near a fire place, Itachi is sitting on a sofa. He has a book in his hands, but he doesn't look like he's reading it. His legs are tucked against his chest and he looks tired, yet his eyes are alert.

"Hey," I say, moving into the room.

"Naruto," he greets flatly.

"Are you okay?" I ask him.

"I'm trying to understand," he murmurs. "I'm trying to put it into perspective and remind myself why he did it. He did it for me, for Sasuke… He did it so Sasuke wouldn't have to suffer and, in turn, neither would I. Nonetheless… I'm still surprised."

"He loves you," is all I say.

"I know," Itachi whispers.

"That's all there is to it," I tell him with an unceremonious shrug.

"Do you think anything will change?" he wonders.

"Maybe" I say. "Probably… I mean, I think things have to change – especially now."

* * *

The days continue to pass quietly. I have no complaints. Sasuke asks me to stay with him and I don't dare refuse, especially not after everything that has happened.

Kisame really did it. Gato's death was reported on the news the day after Kisame's bloody entrance, but the cops don't seem like they're in a hurry to investigate the murder of a notorious drug dealer and some of his crones. I think they're trying to make it seem like the work of a vigilante. Then again, that's not too far off the mark. There have been no reports saying who might've done it, so Kisame is probably going to get away scot-free. It's not surprising. I'm sure he was careful enough to know he wouldn't get caught.

Sasuke doesn't ask any questions, but I have a feeling he knows. If he didn't, then he'd be full of questions. Instead, he simply accepts what the news is spitting out.

"Everyone takes care of me," he says out of the blue. He looks guilty and remorseful. "You, Itachi… and now even Kisame."

I fucking knew he knew.

"It's okay to let people help you, y'know," I tell him.

It's late now and we're sitting in his room. We're wearing the clothes we slept in. Neither of us bothered to change in the morning. Things have been lazy.

"I feel like I'm still waiting…" he continues. "Waiting for what? I don't know. Maybe I'm waiting for one of Gato's lackeys to come after me. I mean... Kisame couldn't have killed them all."

"If it hasn't happened yet, it probably won't," I offer. "Without him, the entire organization will probably dissolve into nothing. Plus, you saw the names. The ones who hurt you are dead."

"It seems too good to be true," Sasuke laughs bitterly. "Am I free of him?"

"You are if you want to be," I say. "The only thing keeping you on a string now is yourself."

Sasuke forces a smile. "I suppose so. I feel like this changes everything. I feel like I can finally take my first step forward and not fear falling back down again."

I smile back and say, "Well, I'll always catch you."

"Smooth," he responds.

* * *

Time continues to move forward at rapid speed. I feel like time always flies when you're enjoying life. Things are easier now.

I think, somehow, this secret has bound us all together. Perhaps it's bad or evil or whatever, but I'll take this one to the grave. If I ever feel guilty about it, I just try to remember all of the shit those assholes put Sasuke though. They didn't deserve to live. Maybe it's not for me to decide, but there's nothing I can do now. No one cares about a bunch of criminals dying in the shittiest part of town. People die all the time. Some are good. Some are bad. These people were bad.

All we can do is keep moving forward. So, that's what I'll do.

Now that it's finally over, it's given Sasuke and Itachi time to piece their relationship back together. Itachi seems more at ease. So does Sasuke. Hell, I feel more at ease, too.

Late one evening, we're all gathered in the living room. The once lonely piano is sitting in the center of the room as Itachi dusts off its keys.

"What changed?" I ask Sasuke.

"Me," he decides. "I don't feel as angry. Perhaps you inspired me when you picked up the pencil. It made me feel like I could do this again."

"I'm glad," I tell him.

Sasuke glances at Kisame. "Thank you," he says sincerely.

"For what?" Kisame asks innocently and Sasuke simply smiles.

Me and Kisame stand a few feet away from the piano. Itachi sits in front of it while Sasuke gets his violin ready.

Together, they make music once again.


	6. Epilogue

**Naruto © Masashi Kishimoto**

**Here's the epilogue~**

**Feels good to have another story complete! Hope you all enjoyed and be sure to stay tuned for more fics in the future. **

* * *

Kisame was never caught, Itachi let it go and Sasuke stayed sober. Well, for now.

And me? Nothing has changed. I still work in the fast food industry, but I did get a promotion. So, I guess that's all right. Someday I'll try and shoot for a better job, but for now this will have to do. I'm still young, after all. I have time.

I finally went back home, but I still make frequent visits to the Uchiha residence. Or, should I say Uchiha-Hoshigaki residence? Itachi and Kisame's wedding was last month. It was a really nice ceremony.

Sasuke and Itachi have been throwing parties – the socialite kind their parents used to throw back when they were alive. It gives Sasuke and Itachi a chance to play their music together. I think it's something that the people in their lives have missed. I always feel out of place at parties like this. Sasuke dresses me up in a nice suit, but I still feel out of place. I feel like a lie, like I don't belong, like I'm pretending. I look the part, but I feel far from it. I don't think I'll ever truly feel like I belong in that side of Sasuke's life and I think the people I meet know this, too. I speak differently. I act differently. My mannerisms aren't quite right. Nonetheless, I still put on a smile because I like seeing Sasuke in his element.

Things finally seem to be working out.

Itachi got Sasuke a job at their family's company. He was welcomed back graciously. I really like seeing him at work. It's a very different side to him. It's refreshing to see him so passionate about his work. So much has changed - Sasuke included. He's grown. I think drugs are popping into his mind less and less these days.

An entire damn year has passed without a hitch and Kisame keeps joking around that me and Sasuke will be the next ones to get married. Well, I don't know about that. Someday, maybe. I don't want to scare him away, but I want to make him my husband.

Last week, Sasuke finally agreed to dispose of the box of drug paraphernalia that was collecting dust in my house. I found that relieving and promising.

Right now, Sasuke is out having lunch with his sponsor, Kakashi Hatake. Me? I'm packing boxes. I'm moving again next month – somewhere in a nicer part of town. It won't be anything fancy, but it'll be more than this dump. I'll be living in the apartment next to Karin and Sakura. I'll be close to family. Speaking of, Karin introduced me to her parents. They're kind of how I always imagined my parents to be - upbeat, optimistic, family oriented. I think if they knew of my existence beforehand, they definitely would have taken me in. But I guess this stuff happens and I like to believe it happens for a reason. Maybe if I ended up living with Karin's family, I would have ended up in a completely different place. I like to think that this is where I'm meant to be.

I found a box of my old drawings the other day. It made me feel nostalgic. I kept them locked away for so long, refusing to look at them. I could never bring myself to throw them away, so I just hid them. They were from a dark period of my life and each drawing reflected my inner turmoil. The pictures used to make me sad. They don't make me sad anymore. I've been drawing a lot, revelling in the fact that I'm no longer in an artistic slump. I like drawing Sasuke the most. He's my favorite subject, my muse or whatever you want to call it, but I draw other things, too. My talent is rather well-rounded. Lately I've been working on sceneries, bright greenery. No more sad drawings. I'm still doing all right.

Everyone seems to be doing well. Sakura started school. Now she's on her way to becoming a doctor. Kiba freaked out the other day because Hinata told him she was pregnant. So, I guess he'll be a dad soon. He's been working a lot, trying to prove himself to her father. Sai proposed to Ino, so there will be another wedding soon.

I keep reminding him that we're only nineteen. We're not supposed to have our shit together at this age. We're still teenagers, after all. Teenagers are idiots.

Sometimes I wonder about having children. It isn't something I ever used to think about, but it crosses my mind a lot more these days. Honestly, the only way I'd want a kid is if he wanted one, but I don't think he does. I don't think either of us would be particularly good fathers.

Well, we'll cross that bridge if or when we get to it.

Late in the evening, my doorbell rings. I head down the hallway to answer it and I'm greeted with the face of Sasuke. "Hey," I say, letting him in. "You don't have to ring the bell. Just walk right in."

"You'll be leaving this place soon," he murmurs out of the blue, stepping inside and glancing around at all the boxes piled against the wall.

"Yeah," I say, closing the door behind him.

"Do you regret living in a dump like this?" he asks.

"No way," I tell him. "If I didn't move here, then I wouldn't have met you."

He looks humoured. "Yeah, are you sure you don't regret it? I'm pretty high-maintenance. I've caused you a lot of grief."

"It's all worth it," I promise him. "Even the bad parts."

He slips out of his shoes and we walk into the living room, settling on the sofa. I turn on the television and we try to find something to watch.

"It's weird," Sasuke murmurs. "After about a hundred relapses, I've been sober for a year. I never thought I'd make it this far. It's the longest I've been sober since I started the hard stuff."

"I'm proud," I say to him.

He softens. "Thanks. I'm kind of proud, too."

"I used to be so fucking scared you were going to die," I admit. "I didn't want to face the possibility of it."

"Yeah," he says quietly.

I don't really want to think about the possibility of him relapsing again. He's been sober for this long. I put my arm around him, flicking through the channels absent-mindedly before settling on some sitcom. I set the remote down and he leans into me.

"We should get married," Sasuke decides out of the blue.

I glance at him and smile. "Damn, I wanted to be the one to ask you."

"Then buy me a ring and get down on one knee," Sasuke says, glancing back and returning the smile with one of his own. "I'll even let you take me out to a fancy restaurant."

I chuckle at that and say, "Well, I guess I know what I'm doing tomorrow."

**Fin.**


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